


Friends Can Break Your Heart Too

by ImJustLikeMe



Category: Mayans M.C. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJustLikeMe/pseuds/ImJustLikeMe
Summary: Mia Flores flees to Santo Padre for one reason and one reason only: her godfather and the man who raised her, Bishop Losa. The last thing she expects is for Angel Reyes to come into her chaotic life and just maybe be the one thing that starts to make sense.
Relationships: Angel Reyes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first go at Mayans M.C. fanfiction, so let me know how I do.  
> I honestly don't know if I'll finish this, but it's in my head and won't go away, and I've become quite fond of my little O.C., Mia <3 and I got a lot of storylines in my head. Hopefully it's a little angsty, a little funny, and a whole lotta sexy.
> 
> BTW Jeanine Mason (aka Liz from Roswell, New Mexico) as Mia!

“Of fucking course, goddammit!” Mia Flores curses as she tugs and pulls on the locked chains around the gate of Romero Bros Scrap. “Son of a bitch!” she exclaims to the darkness and delivers a few swift kicks to the iron gate covered in chains with a huge metal lock just for the hell of it.

The twenty-seven year old then steps back to her car and presses her hands onto the hood, silently berating herself for the decision to not stop one last time at yet another shitty, dirty motel, because now it looks like she’s in for a night of no sleep in her car. Again. All she had wanted was to get here, to feel safe, to finally reach the place she has trying to get to.

A loud rumble in the distance catches her attention, the tell-tale sound of a motorcycle, and her breath hitches. What are the odds that they are heading back to the clubhouse?

Mia waits for the appearance of the loud two-wheelers, but they stop short of her being able to see them or hear exactly where they go. Of course.

She considers her options—resign to sleep in her rundown Chevy Cavalier filled to the brim with clothes and all the rest of the shit she took when she made the split decision to leave or follow the noise in an attempt to find the man she came here for?

“Alright, I guess it’s time for a walk,” she mumbles to herself, opening the passenger side door to reach for the little cash she has, her trusty brown faux-leather jacket, and cell phone. She slams the creaky door shut as she swings the jacket on over her form-fitting soft pink v-neck.

After shoving everything into her pockets, Mia looks over herself one last time in the window. Having expected to go right into the clubhouse when she arrived in Santo Padre, she thinks she already looks pretty decent with minimal makeup, hair clean from the motel she stayed in the night before, hanging down her back in its natural state of loose dark brown curls, she has her signature hoop earrings in, a pair of skintight jeans, and her favorite ankle boots with big, thick heels.

It takes over ten minutes of walking and zig-zagging, but Mia finds three Harley’s parked out front of a bar engulfed by smoke. She doesn’t recognize the one bike she wants, but does see the Mayans emblem on the side of all three.

With a sigh she opens the door and enters the smoke-filled bar thinking that even if she doesn’t know any of the Mayans inside—and that’s the likely case—she could at least use a fucking drink.

Her eyes look for kuttes among the crowd, but sees none, and decides to take an empty seat at the bar.

The drink it is.

“What can I get ya, _cariña_?” the bartender asks, he’s older with worry in his eyes. She’s not sure if it’s something to do with the missing Mayans or being by herself.

“Uh, a beer and shot of whiskey,” she orders, shrugging off her jacket. “Thanks.” A bottle is set in front of her, the lid pulled off with a clink, and a shot soon follows. Mia wastes no time downing the shot and chasing it with the beer.

“A word of advice, _chica_ ,” the man says after the empty shot glass is placed in front of him. Mia’s eyebrows raise as she swallows the alcohol. “Finish your drink and head on home. This isn’t the best place to be this time of night for a _niña_ such as yourself.”

“Thank you, but I can take care of myself. Another shot please,” Mia responds with a sweet smile that causes the man to shake his head at her supposed naivety. 

Just as the shot is placed in front of her three men in kuttes exit the backend of the bar. As predicted, she doesn’t recognize any of them, but isn’t shy about looking them over. She practically grew up in the Oakland clubhouse—much can be told simply based on the appearance of a patch.

The first a bigger guy with a shaved head and well-kept beard, which means he has patience and cares somewhat about his appearance. There are tattoos up and down his arms, of course, they even crawl up his neck, and that’s dedication. Mia has no doubt the man would shoot a man without hesitation, but there is also a kindness to his eyes. He isn’t one of the emotionless soldiers.

The second is smaller in stature and body type, a cigarette in his fingers held as if it’s an extension of him. He’s rougher around the edges physically with longer hair and patches of facial hair, he even has some muttonchops forming. He too has tattoos littered all over his body, a small one even on his face. He’s smaller for sure, but there is a fierceness to him that is concerning. His head is on a swivel, meaning he’s always checking his surroundings, and she knows he is completely aware of everyone, and everything, in the room. He’s ex-military, for sure.

The third one catches her by surprise, making her heart skip a beat. He’s taller than the other two by multiple inches, his hair is short on the side and styled on top, and his beard is heavier in the front, but still taken care of. He’s good looking and fully aware of it, and so carries himself with a confidence that can be dangerous. His shirt is tight on his biceps and his arm veins bulge under his tattoos in the best way. MAYANS is tattooed in bold on his right arm, and this alone tells her how important the club is to him. Maybe it’s the brotherhood, the family he gained from joining, or the acceptance they offered. He’s proud to be part of the club.

There’s an ease to his walk that is attractive, it’s a swagger that isn’t forced and is unique to him. She can tell there is a strong bond between the three—they move almost as if they’re one, they are that in tune with one another. Their friendship likely started before they joined the Mayans.

Suddenly his eyes are on her, and now Mia’s heart skips too many beats, but that doesn’t stop her from meeting his gaze. He’s so fucking good looking.

She sits up straighter and runs a hand through her hair, flipping it in a way to get that perfect mixture of messy and sexy, but also can keep a guy’s attention.

One of his friends, the lean one, says something to him that makes him laugh, and it echoes throughout the bar, but his eyes never leave hers as he licks his lips.

Something about the nonstop eye contact makes her uncomfortable, so she looks down at the bar for her shot before tipping her head back with it.

Maybe it’s the intimacy in his stare, the way he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, what she wants, when she doesn’t even know what’s going on in her head. Or maybe it’s the relationship she just left, how his stare never made her feel anything except dread, especially towards the end.

While Mia knows he’s going to end up at the bar with her and it makes her palms tingle with excitement, she knows this is the last thing she needs right now.

Her brain screams at her to get up, to go back to her car, because she’s so close to what she came here for, because of what she’s running from, because she swore she would be different. Her gut, however, and parts further south, urge her to wait because he’s coming any second and it’s so fucking nice to feel excited about something again, especially a guy.

“Hey, Cisco. Two more shots?” she hears next to her not even a minute later and the anticipation in her stomach bubbles over.

The bartender, Cisco, apparently, nods at the request, but says nothing. Quickly their drinks appear, then he is down at the other end of the bar, far away from them and the outcome he was trying to stop by urging her to leave.

One of the shots slides towards her, and it’s only then that Mia lets herself look up at the man next to her. His hazel-brown eyes connect with her honey-brown and there’s that feeling again—that he’s searching her soul for answers she doesn’t even have the questions for.

“I’m Angel,” he introduces before he tilts his head back and takes the shot with no chaser.

His voice is husky and smooth, and she wonders what it would sound like between her thighs. Would it be lower? Would it tickle her skin with the rumble? Fuck, how long had it been since thoughts like these have crossed her mind?

Is he an angel sent for her during her time of need?

“Is that a line, like you’re my angel, or your real name?” Mia questions, being too honest for her liking, and swallows the warm whiskey in one gulp, knowing it’s been too long since she drank and needs to slow down before she embarrasses herself.

He chuckles, leaning on the bar and closer towards her. He smells like smoke and Earth, and she is curious to know if he tastes the same. “It is my real name, and well, if I’m an angel,” he stops to bite his lip, “that depends on who you ask.”

“I bet that’s true.”

“And your name is?” he asks with a lick of his lips.

Suddenly, she wants to take his bottom lip between her teeth to find out what sound he makes. “Not Angel,” she manages.

“I’ll buy you another shot once you tell me your name.”

“Mia, and I don’t need another shot just yet, but thanks for the offer,” she tells him. Another shot is not what she needs right now, all it will have her thinking is how Angel is that type who would like a girl to be loud in bed, uncaring who can hear. In fact, he’d be proud if the neighbors heard.

“Mia,” he tests the word on his lips and it snaps her back to reality. These are not thoughts she should be having, especially with the relationship she just left.

But, as she looks up under heavy eyelids, all she wants to do is be reminded what it feels like to enjoy being with someone again, for once to not know the unsatisfying outcome, to be spontaneous and not care about what others think, to be free to be herself, if she even remembers who that is anymore.

“So, what’re you doing here, Mia?” he asks as he holds his ringed hand up showing two fingers, and she knows their shots will be refilled momentarily. “You’re not from Santo Padre. Small town, you know.”

“It was the first bar I found,” she answers and his throat rumbles in a chuckle.

Angel takes his shot quickly and hisses as it goes down. “You didn’t look very hard.”

“Truth is, I’m on the run,” Mia tells him and pushes the small glass towards him.

“Somehow, I don’t find that hard to believe,” Angel admits while tilting his head down at her. He’s getting dangerously closer and closer to her, and her buzz is running high.

“I was hired to assassinate a high-ranking government official, but before I could my cover was blown and I was forced to flee in the night,” she says. “I’m on my way to Mexico.”

“’ Cause that’s the last place they’d look for a Mexican on the run,” Angel comments with a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

“Well, I figured with how many they are trying to stop getting here it wouldn’t be hard for one to do the opposite,” she says, “even on the run.”

“Your first time?” he asks

“Going to Mexico?”

“On the run,” Angel corrects.

“Isn’t everyone running from something, Angel?” she questions in return.

“Maybe, but,” Angel stops to take the shot between them quickly, “if you’re on the run from the government, you should be better at it.”

“Are you saying I’m bad at it?” she asks, her voice low, making him lean in even closer.

“If you’re trying to hide, you need to keep shit that is recognizable to you covered up,” he explains and his finger begins to swirl at the skin just below her short sleeve. “This gives you away, _mi dulce_.”

Mia looks down at his finger still caressing the tattoo peeking out from under her sleeve. It’s a skull with a full, vibrant marigold surrounding it, and written underneath is “It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was” with his life and death dates, and one start date with no end.

“The flower of _el Dia de los Muertos_ ,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” she whispers and lets him push her sleeve up to see the whole tattoo.

“It’s beautiful,” he tells her, his voice deep and full of gravel. “Two dads?” he soon wonders aloud.

The thought makes her laugh a little. “My biological father died, and my mom couldn’t deal, so his best friend, my godfather, stepped up and raised me for the most part.”

Angel nods with a look of approval overcoming his face before murmuring, “good man.” His finger outlines the entirety of it slowly and painstakingly. Her body flushes, and she isn’t sure if it is from the alcohol or Angel. Probably a little bit of both.

“My mom’s gone too,” he admits. “I don’t have anything for her yet,” he goes on, his hand dropping down to her thigh and squeezing just enough. “Nothing seems good enough.”

“I never got to know him, my real dad,” Mia confesses, finding her voice. “He died when I was five. I’ve heard stories about the things he’s done, what kind of man he was, how he died, but all I remember is that he was always there to put me to bed, to say my prayers with me, and always, always kissed me goodnight.”

“Did your… other Dad continue to tradition?” he asks and sounds so sincere her heart clogs in her throat.

“Every chance he got,” Mia confirms with a wistful smile. “He, uh, didn’t have what you would call a regular job, but when he could he never missed it. At least until I became a shitty tween and told him I was too old for it.”

“Damn, _quierda_ , you probably broke his heart,” Angel teases.

“Oh, he was just the first in a line of many,” she continues in hopes of lightening the conversation.

“You have good taste, the tattoo. It’s a piece worth his memory, or their memories, I guess,” he tells her.

“Thank you,” she says and eyes his arms. “You have quite the mural yourself.”

Angel looks down and grins. “I like to think so.”

“Very… colorful in their own way,” she comments, her finger following the pattern of his veins as it climbs up his muscular arm.

“Some more straightforward than others,” he agrees as she traces ‘MAYANS’ very carefully. She’s sure he is waiting for her to ask questions about the M.C. as people passing through probably often do, or at least want to.

“So, are you going to ask what I’m actually doing here?” Mia questions, her eyes flitting up to meet his. The hazel seems darker than when he first came over.

He opens his mouth, but just licks his lips for a moment. “Are you going to tell me?”

Mia grins, and it feels like her first real smile in months. “No.”

“There’s that, and it’s none of my fucking business,” Angel says and catches her hand in his, linking them together. His thumb sweeps over her skin leaving tingles in its wake.

“And what is your business over here, Angel?” she asks of him, her free hand resting on his knee, her face so close to his that his breath tickles her eyelashes.

“Not sure yet, will be soon though,” he tells her, that cockiness shining through.

“Oh yeah, what would make you sure?” Her nose brushes against his while her hand slides up towards his crotch, her fingers gliding over his zipper as the hope in her chest swells.

“Done,” he states before their lips crash together and Mia finds he tastes like nicotine, alcohol, and something sweet.

His beard tickles her chin, making her smile into his kiss and pull him closer by the openings of his kutte. Angel’s fingers brush along the visible skin on her chest on their way to cradling her chin with both palms. The moan that escapes her throat makes it his turn to smile.

His tongue meets hers and she’s one more smooth move from crawling into his lap right here in the bar. Although, being a Mayan, that isn’t new to him. Still, it’s not something she does, a part of the M.C. life she never thought she’d take part in—the footsteps her mother left behind and she swore she’d never follow.

Mia’s hand cups his growing hard-on and it causes their lips to pull apart.

Angel studies her face for a moment before he nods towards the back of the bar he first came from and stands with a hand extended out towards her.

She doesn’t hesitate, simply takes it and lets him pull her from the barstool. Even if this isn’t something she should be doing, it is something she wants to be doing.

Mia’s whole body starts to buzz with adrenaline as he leads her through the back hallway to what, in Spanish, reads the women’s restroom. He opens it as if he knows no one is inside and brings her along right behind him.

It’s a single bathroom, one toilet and adjacent sink, and is cleaner than Mia expected.

The door locks behind them and she turns to find Angel leaning against it, studying her as if waiting for her to make the first move.

With a tilt of her head, Mia looks him in the eye, lifts her v-neck over her head, and tosses it on the side of the sink. It leaves her in a lace white bra with a pink bow nestled between her breasts.

Angel simply stares at her a moment, a grin forming as he pushes off the door and steps up to her. His arms slither low around her waist, his hands cupping her ass as he looks down at her and pulls her against him, lifting her the tiniest amount as their lips meet. Mia takes the hint and with a hop her legs are around his waist. She doesn’t even notice he’s walking until he sets her on the edge of the sink, his hands firmly on her neck to keep her close.

It’s only now that Mia pushes on his kutte, knowing he wouldn’t have dropped it on the floor, regardless of how much they want to fuck each other. Angel understands, letting it fall down his shoulders and tosses it on top of her shirt. He pulls away a moment later and tugs his shirt up over his head revealing more of his ink.

“Hmm,” she whispers as a hand caresses the black markings on his chest. “Less than I thought there’d be.”

Angel lets out a breathy laugh. “More than I thought,” he counters before dipping his head down to kiss at the colorful silhouetted birds tattooed on the underside of her breast.

Mia leans back against the wall as his lips make their way up the valley of her breasts and neck. Her arms loop around his shoulders, squeezing the solid expanse of skin. His teeth nibble on her ear and she sighs in pleasure.

Surprisingly, Angel doesn’t continue and instead brings her heeled feet up on top of the sink with her. He rips his lips from hers and begins to untie the laces, but Mia smacks his hand away with a laugh before pulling down the zipper on the side.

“Like I was supposed to fucking know that,” he mumbles as the boots drop to the ground.

Mia smiles and reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, her thumb resting on his bottom lip. “You gonna fuck me or what?”

Angel’s lips pucker into a kiss against her thumb before reaching down for the opening of her jeans and unbuttoning them. “Something I gotta do first,” he says.

Mia lifts her weight up onto her hands as he pulls her jeans down. “And what would that be?” she asks once he frees her legs, the jeans now turned inside out from being so tight.

Instead of answering, Angel opens her legs wide, pushes her underwear to the side, and his head swoops down in-between her thighs.

“Holy—!” she can’t even finish as his lips suck on her clit, hard, and his tongue starts to swirl around the nub. Her hands grab ahold of his hair to keep him in place. “Shi-it, yes,” she stutters.

She feels him smile against her and she tilts her head back on the mirror, not caring about the sounds she’s making or how loud she is. It’s been months since she’d been eaten out, or even had any kind of sexual interaction that felt good, wanted.

It’s not long before two of his fingers enter her, expertly hitting that special spot, and causes her eyes to roll into the back of her head as she suddenly comes. It’d be embarrassing how soon she unravels if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

Angel’s fingers pull out, but his tongue circles her clit until her orgasm is over and leaves her heaving against the wall. “Fuck me,” she breathes in an attempt to regain her bearings.

“I’m getting there,” Angel promises, making her smile as he undoes his own jeans.

“Yes, you are,” Mia agrees and licks her lip at the sight of his cock. It’s bigger than her ex, although that isn’t hard to be. She reaches down and wraps her hand around him, giving a tug that makes his forehead fall to her shoulder as he groans contentedly. She pumps it a few more times before he pulls away, reaching into his back pocket for something.

Angel flips the golden condom through his fingers with a certain finesse that she hopes is supposed to be funny because it makes a laugh erupt from her throat. He rips the package open with his teeth and rolls it up his member in seconds.

Mia opens her legs wide once more for him to nestle inside, then tilts her head up to him. Angel presses his lips against hers before slipping inside her in one swift movement. She breaks the kiss in a gasp at the feel of him, of how she stretches to accommodate his size and girth.

“Fuck,” she breathes as he moves in and out of her. The pace is fast and Mia tries to find purchase on the sink, something to grab onto, but all she finds is smooth porcelain. So instead, she reaches forward and places a hand on either side of his hips for leverage.

“C’ mere, _quierda_ ,” Angel murmurs and lifts her jaw to push their lips together. She can do little more than moan and breathe into his mouth, but likes the contact.

Mia already starts to come undone, feels that familiar tingle begin to climb up her spine, but shakes her head. “No, no, no, not yet,” she pleads with herself. She’s not done feeling this, not ready for it to be over yet. “I’m not ready.”

Angel smiles against her cheek as he continues to pound into her. “Your pussy tells me you are,” he moans into her ear.

She shakes her head, her nails now digging into his ass. “Uh-uh.”

He takes her hands from his bottom, where she was probably about to draw blood, and links them through his own, then presses her against the wall. “You’re gonna come, _mi dulce_ , right fucking now,” he orders through grinding teeth.

Against her own wishes, her body lets go, and she bites her lip to keep from calling out as her inner walls clamp down on his cock, hard. Her body starts to shake, her fingers squeezing his, probably cutting off circulation, as comes harder than she ever has before.

Angel is cursing in her ear as he fucks her through the orgasm, not letting himself go until she’s coming down.

“Holy shit,” Mia breathes, wiggling one of her hands free to thread it through his hair, caressing his scalp while he comes down himself. “I think you are my angel,” she murmurs.

Angel lifts his head from where it was resting on her shoulder, a grin on his face. “Happy to oblige.”

Mia smiles back at him and kisses him. “I’m sure you are.”

With that, Angel finally pulls out of her and drops the used condom in the trashcan before reaching down to pull up his pants.

“You think you can hand me my jeans, my Angel?” she asks with her legs dangling from the sink.

Angel reaches down for the denim and even turns them right side out for her.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Mia teases as she starts to slip them up her legs without getting off the sink just yet.

“That so?” he questions, bending down to put her boots back on her feet, zipper and all. When he stands, he winks, and reaches for his shirt and kutte.

“You are a smooth one,” she remarks as she hops down and shimmies the tight jeans all the way up her thighs. “You mind, uh, giving me a minute? I got a little more to clean up than you.”

“Sure thing,” he replies while swinging his kutte on and reaching for the door handle.

“By the way, Angel,” she starts before the door is quite open. He turns with his eyebrows raised. “That thing about not thinking anything is good enough for the tattoo of your mom, it’s bullshit.”

“Oh, really?”

“It’s not about something being good enough, it’s about what will make you think of good memories of your mom when you see it or when you touch it. It’s for you to remember her, to honor her, no one else,” she tells him. “That’s all it has to be.”

Angel looks her over, then nods in what looks like respect. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

This time Mia winks at him and he leaves the bathroom with a chuckle. She finishes dressing, pees quickly, and throws her hair up in a bun since it’s no longer going to look nice down, not after his fingers got all tangled up in it. 

She heads back to the bar, stopping short of being seen coming out of the hallway and looks for Angel. He’s not at the bar, but she does see him off to the side, turned in the opposite direction on the phone.

Mia quickly grabs her jacket and drops a few bills for her share of drinks before ducking out the side door, hopefully before Angel caught sight of her.

She has no trouble making her way back to her car, a smile glued to her face the whole way.

This is not the way she expected her first night in Santo Padre to go. However, as she gets into her car, kicks off her boots, extends her driver’s seat as far back as it will go, and settles under a blanket, she can’t help but think it’s kind of perfect.

They say the best way to get over your ex is to get under someone else, and there’s nothing like kickstarting the process.

For the first time in a long time, Mia falls asleep easily. 

-:-

Of course, it feels like it’s only been five minutes when she wakes with a start and pounding on her driver's side window.

It’s accompanied by angry Spanish that doesn’t stop even though the perpetrator can see that she’s awake. As the pounding gets louder the voice changes to English. “Get the fuck up! You think this is park and ride? Are you deaf?” he’s asking. 

In a fit of anger, because the noise is not helping her headache, Mia pops open the door and hits the man with it.

“What the fuck? The fuck is wrong with you, lady?”

“Me? You’re the one knocking on my door like the fucking police,” she reminds him as she reaches for her boots.

“So you understand English, now get the fuck out of here,” he tells her.

Mia stands, squinting in the harsh sunlight, and looks a good look at her human wake up call. It’s one of the guys from the bar, obviously not Angel, but the smaller one. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to get the hell out of here. Do you not understand what I’m telling you? You. Can’t. Park. Here.”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that,” Mia sighs and reaches for her cell phone. It’s just past nine AM, the gate to the clubhouse is now unlocked, and Romero Bros Scrap is now open, she guesses. “Bishop here?” she asks while walking around to the trunk of her car and lifting it open.

“What the fuck? How do you know Bishop?” the man asks, his attitude becoming even more impatient as he steps closer to her.

Mia fishes out a black flowy shirt that has crisscrossing straps across the chest and unashamedly brings it to her nose for a sniff. “Smells clean enough,” she mumbles to herself before taking off the pink v-neck from the night before.

“Jesus Christ,” the guy complains and turns away from her, which is completely unexpected.

“You Santo Padre boys, you keep surprising me,” Mia comments, the new shirt now on, but still doesn’t turn back.

“Yo, Coco! You take care of our curbside trash yet?” they both hear and she definitely recognizes this voice.

“Can’t get a straight answer out of her,” Coco, it seems, calls back.

“Her?” Angel questions as Mia closes her trunk and it stops him in his tracks at the sight of her.

“What’re you…” he trails off, looking from her to Coco and back. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Your friend didn’t seem to understand the question, so I’ll ask you. Is Bishop here?”

“Bish… you know Bishop?” he responds with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

“Yeah, that’s about as far as I got with Coco here,” Mia sighs as she makes her way between the boys to enter the scrap yard.

“How the fuck do you know Bishop? Let’s get that far and maybe we’ll tell you where he is." Coco catches her by the arm in an effort to stop her from going any further.

Mia shakes her arm free from his grasp. “Touch me again like that and you’ll be dealing with me and wish it was your _Presidente_ by the time I’m done,” she warns causing both men's eyebrows to raise in surprise. “And, actually, we’re going to do it this way. I’m going to find a bathroom so I can pee. By the time I get back, you can either have Bishop here, or on his way, or even an address so I can to go to him. How does that sound?”

“Listen, _perra_ —”

“Hey, enough,” Angel stops the insult coming from Coco’s mouth mid-sentence. “Bathroom is through there. If you can’t find it ask the guy with wooden fingers, he’ll point it out to you,” he says with a head nod towards the scrap office.

Mia nods thankfully, but throws a glare Coco’s way before turning towards the building she's directed to. It’s minimal, a computer and stacks of paperwork, but she sees the bathroom sign and is a little grateful she doesn’t see the wooden finger man. That has to be a whole other story.

When she’s done, Mia stares at herself in the mirror. Her bun kept through the night, the little makeup left on did too, but despite her good night's sleep, eyebags remain. Of course, they've been adorning her face for weeks now, so it's nothing new. 

She breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth to calm her nerves. When Coco grabbed her arm… she didn’t mean to snap, but she’s done being a doormat. That isn’t the woman her godfather raised. She needs to remember who she is, where she came from, and that all starts with Bishop.

When she manages to stop the shaking she exits the scrap office and finds it’s not just Angel and Coco waiting for her now, they are joined Taza and the one she’s been asking for.

“…has a fucking mouth on her,” she hears Coco saying, a cigarette now hanging from his lips. 

“Do you know how many women that could be?” Taza asks and the honesty makes her snort a little.

All four turn to her and Bishop’s face goes from confusion, to shock, to a smile bigger than she ever remembers all in a matter of seconds.

“She certainly does have a mouth on her,” he comments and is already walking towards her.

“Well, I learned from the best,” Mia jokes as he scoops her up in his arms.

“That you did, baby girl,” Bishop laughs in her ear.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, Bop,” she whispers and lets him hold onto her so tight it almost hurts.

“Me too,” he says and squeezes her one more time before letting go. “What are you doing here? Did I miss a call?”

Mia shakes her head and tries to hide the tremble threatening to overtake her body. “What? A girl can’t come to see her old man?”

“Any fucking time, _pequeña_ , you know that,” he assures her with a kiss to the forehead.

She smiles and hugs him again, this time it’s softer, but feels no less safe than the one before.

“Uh, you mind fucking introducing the rest of us?” comes from Coco a moment later and causes them to pull apart.

“Not all of us need introductions,” Taza mentions and Mia smiles before giving him a quick hug too. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

“You too, Taz,” she replies and steps back to Bishop, who wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“Boys, this is Mia, my little girl.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: flashback to abuse - the whole scene is in italics so if you don't want to read it just skip that part.
> 
> This is verrry long. Sorry, it just got away from me.  
> I hope you like! Read and review!

“Since when you got a kid, Bish?” Coco asks with cigarette smoke leaking from his nose.

Bishop turns to Mia and makes a show of looking her up and down. “Twenty-some odd years or so now.”

“Very funny,” Coco mutters to himself as he steps on the butt of his cigarette.

“You have something to say now that we know this young lady’s relationship to Bishop?” Taza questions while looking down at Coco expectantly.

“Sorry for the shit I said, how I acted. Didn’t know who you were, you know,” he offers half-heartedly.

“I wasn’t being very forthcoming either, but I wanted to surprise him,” Mia replies along with a hip check to her godfather.

Angel chortles in front of her, and she fixes her gaze on him as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. He meets her eyes but says nothing as the white smoke oozes from his mouth and nose.

“Now that we’re all acquainted and in good standing, I think some of us need to get to work,” Taza says with a pointed look at the two younger Mayans.

“God forbid the scrap piles up,” Angel murmurs before brushing past her and towards the scrap yard.

Coco follows, but Taza lingers with the two of them. “You two take some time, we can handle a couple hours without our fearless leader,” the VP offers.

Bishop nods. “Mia, you mind giving us a minute?” he asks in a voice that is almost too polite.

Mia looks around expectantly. “Uh…”

“Clubhouse is open,” Bishop says with a cock of his head. “No one’s in there, help yourself behind the bar.”

Mia lets out a breath of laughter. “Sure,” she agrees and walks up the few stairs to the clubhouse, but doesn’t help herself behind the bar, although it would help with the headache.

It’s exactly what she expects it to be, the clubhouse. There’s a bar, a pool table, various other tables and chairs, Mayan memorabilia adorns the walls, along with posters of scantily clad women. There’s a tattoo chair in one corner, a stripper pole in another, and a stained-glass door Mia knows leads to where they hold Templo.

She’s only alone for a minute or two before Bishop comes in behind her. “Sorry, club shit,” he apologizes as he goes behind the bar himself. He reaches for a beer, then seems to rethink it and puts it back. “Do you… breakfast, maybe?”

Mia shakes her head. “Maybe we should talk first, it has been a while.”

Bishop leans on the bar, his hands folded together. “More than a year since we spoke at least. Almost two since I’ve actually seen you, despite the fact that I’ve been up to Oakland three times to do just that, but since I didn’t know where you lived—”

“I know, I’m an asshole, I’m sorry,” Mia interrupts.

“I call every year on every major holiday, on your birthday, on the anniversary of—”

“I know!” she exclaims. “I know, okay?”

“Come to find that fourteen months ago your number changes, your cell phone account gone completely. You’re not listed anywhere, Esai hadn’t heard from you, you refused to tell me the name of that boyfriend you practically fucking worshipped. The boyfriend, who, if I recall correctly, lead to all this shit happening,” Bishop continues anyways.

“Do not blame this all on me!” Mia surprises herself by screaming. “Yes, I’m the asshole that didn’t call, didn’t reach out, but you made a choice and I—”

“Oh, no, we’re not going there,” Bishop states as he pounds a fist on the bar.

Mia jumps and silently berates herself for it. “You choose her, Bop, you choose her over and over again, every time,” she insists. “And I got fucking sick of it.”

“She’s your mother,” Bishop says quietly.

“Since fucking when?” she asks. “The moment that my,” she stops to clear her throat, “when he died she stopped being my mother and you know it.”

“She tried.”

Mia shakes her head. “I don’t know why I even came here. I should have known it would turn into this. Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, I am wrong for cutting you out, and believe me when I say I hate myself for it, but here we are, once again, and instead of trying to work things out with me you’re still choosing her.”

“She’s your mother, Mia, I’m not choosing—”

“You were my mother!” Mia cuts him off, and he looks up at her in surprise. “You,” she confirms as she steps towards the bar. “You said my prayers with me, you read me books until I fell asleep, you signed me up for dance classes, came to every recital. Jesus Christ, Bop, you had one of the old lady’s teach your how to help with my hair when I started kickboxing and needed it French braided every day.”

Her godfather nods but says nothing in return this time.

“Bop, you were my mother and my father, still are, and I came here because I,” she stops and blinks away tears. “I really do hate myself for cutting you out, please believe that.”

He’s out from behind the bar and she’s in his arms not even a moment later. “Sh, don’t say shit like that, _pequeña_ ,” he whispers in her ear.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she repeats into his kutte.

“I’m sorry too,” he murmurs against the crown of her head before kissing it. “I shouldn’t have let this shit go on for so long.”

Mia pulls away shaking her head. “How could you have patched it up? You couldn’t find me.”

“I guess I taught you a little too well, huh?” he tries to joke, and Mia laughs to make him feel better.

She wishes she could tell him it was all her idea. Wishes she simply got a new phone plan in an effort to hide from him, moved so he couldn’t find her, stopped working so she wouldn’t have a paper trail for him to follow.

But none of it is true.

“I am sorry, Bop,” she insists while wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks.

“C’mon,” he leads her over to a table and pulls out a chair for her. “You didn’t come all this way to apologize, did you? My number hasn’t changed, you could have called, we could have arranged something.”

“No, I did need to come all this way to say sorry. You deserve a face-to-face apology. Respect goes a long way, you taught me that too,” she corrects him.

“We both said shit that day, from what I remember. I’m sorry too. I do…” he trails off and sighs. “I do make your mom a priority, sometimes it might feel like more than I do you, but it’s not true. I know you can take care of yourself, I raised you to be able to. Your mom…” he sighs again, “is a heroin addict and I enable her too much, I know that.”

Mia wants to cry all over again. Because she hasn’t been taking care of herself. Because she hasn’t been acting like the woman he raised. Because if he knew what Jay did to her, what she let him do, he wouldn’t think she could take care of herself so well. He’d be ashamed.

“It’s okay,” she manages.

“No, it’s not. You’re my top priority, always have been and will be. You know that, right?” he asks and for the second time in as many days Mia feels like her heart is lodged in her throat.

Not trusting her voice, Mia simply nods.

Bishop reaches forwards and takes her hands in his. “What’s going on, _mija_?” he asks in a soft voice. “I am so happy to see you, but you’re here for more than this. I’ve lived here for over five years and you’ve never showed interest in coming down.”

“I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, but me and the boyfriend are no longer a thing,” she confesses. “Just wasn’t working out.”

“He kicked you out?”

Mia almost laughs. “No, I left him, actually. He went on a trip with some friends and I decided to take a permanent one of my own.”

Bishop sighs and scrubs a hand down his face. “You think he’ll come looking? Should I talk to one—”

“No,” she stops him, lying through her teeth. “At least, I don’t think so. I tried to keep him in the dark about the club and Mom, all of it. He wasn’t very interested in my past, more of a look to the future type of guy. He always had plans and ideas and cared a lot about what people thought,” she goes on. “I felt stifled, I guess. I thought I wanted normal, I thought being with someone exactly the opposite of what I grew up with was what I needed. I had just started dating him when Mom OD’ed, again, and you jumped in to save her, again, and I was so angry. I was so angry I wanted away from Oakland, from the MC, all of it.”

“I don’t blame you,” her godfather tells her. “You haven’t had it the easiest, I didn’t shield you from as much as I should have.”

“No, don’t. All the good memories I have from my childhood come from you. It was hard sometimes, but I was loved and I had everything I needed to get through,” she assures him. “It took me almost two years, but I’ve realized I can’t forget who I am or where I came from, and I don’t want to.”

“I’m glad,” Bishop admits and gives her a smile.

“Normal is very overrated, I found out,” she tries to joke. “Boring Christmas parties, stuffy work functions, Sunday brunch at the club. It’s all very pastel and white with fake noses and bad dye jobs.”

“Sounds like scary shit to me, baby,” he insists. “I think I’d rather wear black and drink some beers with my brothers.”

Mis forces a smile. “It was nice in the beginning, I guess. All the restaurants and fancy galas, getting to dress up for more than a funeral or a court date, nice cars and all that, but,” she shakes her head as she thinks about it, “it was all a lie. That’s not who I am, and it took me too long to realize that’s not who I want to be either.”

“We all go through shit, Mia,” Bishop reminds her. “You didn’t choose this life, you were born into it, raised in it. It makes sense you wanted a taste of another life. I’m just glad you decided the old one was worth hanging on to.”

“It is,” she promises him quietly. “It’s a memory of you that make me realize I was in over my head, was living a life I wasn’t meant for and being someone I wasn’t.”

“A good one, I hope.”

“I was, uh,” Mia starts while staring at nicks in the table. “I was going through some shit from when I was a kid, pictures and stuff,” she partially lies. “And I found that one of me on my first bike the day you got it for me, do you remember?”

Bishop chuckles and nods. “It took me an hour to get you on it, then three hours to get you off at the end of the day.”

“I remember crying when I realized there were no training wheels and thought that meant I couldn’t ride it,” Mia says with small smile. “But you said I didn’t need training wheels, that I was a big girl, and by the time you were done with me I’d be riding like a pro.”

“And I was right, wasn’t I?” he asks with a proud smile already on his face.

Mia nods. “You usually are. Do you remember what you said the first time I fell?”

Bishop grins at the memory. “We were screaming at each other in the middle of the park. You were six, had pig tails, your arms crossed, and steam coming out of your ears. I really thought I was going to lose the fight there for a minute.”

“You let me fall! I felt betrayed,” Mia defends herself. “But do you remember what you said?”

Bishop lets out a long breath. “I told you life was going to knock you down over and over again, but you had to get up and keep going because that’s how you grow and move on.”

“I think you added something in there about proving all the fuckers who tried to keep me down wrong too,” she teases.

“Yep, I did,” Bishop recalls in a laugh.

“And then you told me,” Mia goes on, “that when I felt like I’d been knocked down one too many times and I couldn’t get back up all I had to do was turn around,” she says as tears fill her eyes again. “All I had to do was turn around because you’d be there to help me up and remind me how strong I was. Do you remember that?”

Bishop simply nods and squeezes her hands.

“I realized I got knocked down a while ago, and I needed help getting back up,” she tells him. “I’m sorry if it’s a bad time or if I messed up anything for you and the club—”

“Stop,” he orders, his tone firm. “You will never be a problem, you understand me? Never.” He brushes a tear off her cheek. “And I’m here, always, just tell me what you need.”

“I think I just,” she stops to sniffle, “I think I just need my dad to pick me up and tell me everything will be okay, and maybe a place to stay for a while. I don’t have much money or,” she’s cut off by Bishop’s arms wrapping around her.

“Don’t worry about any of that,” he tells her.

“I realized I wasn’t being the woman you raised me to be. I was trying to be someone else because I was so angry, and I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

Bishop holds her tighter. “Everything is going to be fine. I’ve got you now.”

Mia just lets herself be held by him like she did that day at the park when she fell again and again, hoping that when he lets her go she’ll be ready to stand up again.

_~3 weeks ago~_

_Mia doesn’t even attempt to get up from where he left her on the floor, and instead curls into a ball. Ignoring the little pieces of glass piercing her skin, not caring about the blood threatening to seep into her eyes, and struggling for each breath, she just waits._

_It’s less than ten minutes when she hears glass crunch underneath his shoes and smoke fills the air. The smell makes the tension she’s holding in her shoulders alleviate the smallest bit. Smoking usually means he’s done, that the battle is over._

_“What am I going to do with you?” comes from above her. His voice is hoarse now, as it usually is after he’s spent hours yelling._

_A hand slips into her hair and Mia can’t help but shrink away from his touch, but that doesn’t stop him or seem to bother him._

_“Hm? Any ideas?” he asks with his hand still caressing her hairline._

_When she still doesn’t answer he blows the skunk smoke in her face causing her to cough. She wants to tell him that his dealer sucks, his weed is weak, but stays quiet. It’s safer that way._

_“Maybe I should get you pregnant again, huh?” he wonders aloud, his free hand now cupping her stomach, and at this she physically recoils. Jay pulls on her hair, hard, to tug her back in place. She winces at the little pieces of glass that are now embedded in her flesh. “But I can’t trust you with that, can I? Since you killed the last one.”_

_“It wasn’t a baby,” she mutters and waits for the pain, but none comes. “It was cells—”_

_“It was my baby,” he corrects her as his grip tightens on her curls. “It wasn’t cells or yours to decide what to do with. It was mine. You hear me?”_

_Mia’s eyes fill with tears because he’s wrong, he’s so wrong. She was barely eight weeks and it could have been a baby, her baby, but she couldn’t let it become that. Not with this father, not this life, not if she could help it._

_He stands, accepting her silence as both cowardice and surrender. “No, I think we have some growing and learning to do before you have my baby,” he sighs, disappointed she doesn’t already know her place. “If you think this is going to ruin my trip, you’re wrong,” he says with the joint hanging out of his mouth as he reaches into his pocket. He drops a credit card and wad of cash on her. “This shit better be cleaned up by the time I get home, you hear me? Like it never happened.”_

_Mia only nods and he walks away back towards the bedroom, probably for his luggage. He was finishing packing when she came home. Of course, he can’t miss the annual weekend golf trip with his frat bros. That would be a shame._

_It isn’t until the door closes behind him that Mia breathes easily and lets more tears fall from her eyes._

_How the fuck did he find out about the abortion?_

_She’s gotten most of the glass picked out of her arm when a photo in the mess she’s supposed to clean up catches her eye. All she can make out is the top of her own head and hair of the man who is on her thoughts more than she wants to admit._

_Mia’s careful to walk on the small path already cleared with the broom in her barefeet as she approaches the broken curio cabinet and reaches for the picture hidden behind all the photos of Jay at his law school graduation._

_Her lip quivers as she looks down at the man who raised her, his arms around her as she sits on a purple bike with teal tires and handlebars, her favorite colors at the time. She looks so happy, innocent, unbroken._

_It’s probably the only picture of her past in the entire house. The rest are all lies—them smiling at business functions, family barbeques, his brother’s wedding. What they don’t show is him squeezing her leg tight under the table in warning for her not to mess up again, a hand digging so hard into her neck it leaves bruises, and a look in his eye that makes her scared to go home._

_But the picture in her hand is real. It contains joy, love, and it all feels like a lifetime ago._

_Mia stands now, the picture never leaving her hand, and she knows what she has to do, because she remembers who she once was._

_~present~_

“We should make a list of the shit you need,” Bishop calls from the clubhouse kitchen as he goes to refill both their plates with the scrambled eggs and bacon he made.

Apparently, she isn’t the only Mayan daughter around. Coco has a sixteen-year-old that is in and out of the clubhouse regularly, which means there is more than beer and chips stocked in the kitchen.

“I don’t want you to worry about that. I’ll get a job and get it on my own,” Mia says as he returns.

He sets the plate down in front of her and gives her a look she knows means he isn’t going to lose this one. “Mia, you’re my kid, let me take care of you. We can fight about you paying me back later.”

She tries not to laugh with a forkful of eggs in her mouth. “When you put it that way.”

“You need a phone, right?” he questions, to which she nods as she chews. “I’ll put a call in, get you added to my plan. You can head down and pick out whatever you want this afternoon. You can toss the prepaid one you got. Smart move, by the way,” he adds. “Don’t want the asshole following you because you kept the phone he was paying for.”

“You never even met him, Bop,” she reminds him, then bites her cheek. Why is she defending him? He is an asshole.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell he’s an asshole,” he responds and she keeps quiet this time. “I got a room for you at my place, but since you’re staying awhile we’ll get you moved in to this small house I rent out in a few weeks,” he goes on. “It’s a shithole right now, but I’ll put the prospect on it, maybe a few of the guys. We have a warehouse full of shit too, you can go and pick what you want, make the place yours.”

“I hate feeling like a burden,” Mia mumbles.

“You kidding? I’ve been asking you to move down here for years. I’ve got it all worked out up here, baby,” he says with a finger tap to his head. “SPG is always hiring, you’ll have a job there by the end of the week, no problem.”

“SPG?” she questions as she sips at her orange juice. Her headache is gone, finally.

“Santo Padre General,” he fills her in. “If you want, I can put a call in. I know someone, Gracie, she—”

“I really appreciate all you’re doing for me, Bop, but I can get a job on my own,” Mia cuts him off. “Especially as a nurse. I want them to know I can do the job because I’m good at it, not because my dad called someone.”

“Alright, alright,” he mutters before lighting up one of his cigars. He usually only smokes during celebrations and Templo, so she looks at him with her eyebrows raised. “What? I can’t be happy my little girl is here?”

Mia can’t help but smile at him. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

Bishop grins back at her with a pat to her knee.

She looks back at her eggs covered with hot sauce and lets out a shaky breath. This is what she has been working towards for almost three weeks. She’s here, with Bishop, and he knows just enough not to be suspicious. She’s with one of the few people she feels safe with, in a place where she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder all the time because she never told Jay about it. He never cared to know about her ‘ghetto past’ as he liked to call it.

“You alright, _pequeña_?” he asks, breaking her concentration on the eggs.

“Uh, yeah, I was just thinking,” Mia tells him. “I need one more thing.”

“Name it.”

“The plates on my car, they are kind of fake,” she says before putting more eggs in her mouth.

Bishop takes the cigar from his mouth. “Kind of?” he questions, to which she shrugs. “I’ll have it handled by end of day. That piece of shit Chevy on the curb is yours?”

“No,” Mia orders, seeing the wheels in his head turn. “I don’t need a new car. It’s just old, that’s all. I haven’t really driven it in two years. I was using one of his cars, and I couldn’t very well take it when I’m leaving him, now could I? But the plates were off it, so I had to get new ones to drive it here.”

It’s a lie. It had plates, but Jay knew what they were, and he’d use them to look for her. There are perks to growing up in the MC, she knows quite a few tricks.

“Fine,” he mutters, but she knows it will be one of those fights saved for later.

“I also need to open a bank account,” she adds on. “I closed mine out when I decided to come down here. Figured it’d be easier that way, I mean, there aren’t many of the usual franchises in town.”

“Good call,” Bishop comments. “You look exhausted, _mija_ ,” he says a moment later.

“Thank you, that’s just what every girl wants to hear from her father,” she tells him as she finishes off her plate.

“Let’s get you out of here. We’ll stop at the bank and the phone place on the way to my house, then you can sleep the rest of the day, or do whatever shit you want to do.”

“I would not say no to sleeping for the rest of the day,” Mia agrees.

“And I’ve been thinkin’,” he goes on as they stand, “maybe on Sunday we can have a get together here with everyone, so you meet ‘em all. You know Taza and Hank, but not any of my other guys. We can fire up the grill, tell stories of all the shit you put me through as a teen—”

“Hey! I was not that bad,” she insists. “I was never officially charged with anything, anyways,” she corrects herself and he laughs. It’s full and hearty and makes her feel better inside than she has in months.

“You up for it?” he checks as they exit the clubhouse and are once again out in the blinding sunlight. He hands her the sunglasses clipped to his kutte without a word.

She puts them on and beams up at him. “Definitely. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a real clubhouse party. Think any of the guys will want to get in the cage? I haven’t seen a good fight in even longer.”

“Haven’t been in one either, I bet?” he teases. “Use any of those kickboxing skills I paid for lately?”

Mia looks down at the sand underneath their feet. She doesn’t want to tell him she’s been in fights, not the kind he’s talking about, and that she didn’t fight back. In fact, she barely put up one most of the time. “Not in a while, no.”

“I got a bunch of your old gear if you want to get back into it,” he tells her. “There’s some here, some back at the house, but it’s all yours if you want it.”

“You’re such a packrat, Bop,” Mia teases as they stop at the row of bikes.

There is a whistle behind them and they both turn to see Angel walking over, but he doesn’t look happy about it.

“One sec,” Bishop says and meets him halfway.

Mia takes the moment to look at him. Angel, that is. She can’t believe she let that happen last night, hooking up with him in the bathroom. She smiles at the memory though.

How long had it been since she’d done something for herself? Besides the decision to come down here, that is? Too fucking long.

Maybe it was just what she needed—a good time and an even better fuck to remember what she’s fighting for, or rather show her the kinds of things she is missing. Of course, she doesn’t want or need a relationship, he likely doesn’t either, but some fun? She’s definitely down for that. After the hell she’s been through, she thinks she deserves some.

Mia hadn’t been joking or lying when she said he was her angel, because maybe he was. In that moment, he was exactly what she needed, and she doesn’t regret it for a second.

They only speak for a minute, then Bishop is heading towards the scrap yard and Angel is coming towards her. He looks good in his Romero Bros Scrap shirt. The sleeves are cut off and those veins she loves in his arms are popping in all the right places.

“Hey,” she greets while sliding the glasses up into her hair.

“Bish needs to talk to Taza, wants me to keep you company, introduce myself, you know,” he tells her and his voice is much harsher than yesterday. He pulls out his cigarettes and lights one.

“You think we should tell him we already got that out of the way last night?” she asks, and his mouth opens in shock, causing him to almost lose the stick hanging from his lips. “I’m kidding! Calm down, will you?”

“You knew exactly who I was, that I knew your ‘other Dad’,” he says with finger quotes and all. “And you fucking played me.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” she asks. “Which part are you mad about? That I didn’t tell you that you were fucking your president’s daughter or that I let you play up the big, bad biker thing when I already knew all about it? Just so I know for the sake of the argument.”

Angel takes a long drag of his cigarette, then shakes his head. “I’m just sayin’ you knew all the facts going in, I didn’t know shit, thought you were just passing through.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do you usually ask all your fuck buddies for their whole history, want my mother’s maiden name too? How about my record, that seems more your style?”

“Let me guess,” Angel starts with a pointer finger on each side of his head for dramatic effect, “you’re on the run for attempting to assassinate a high-ranking government official.”

Mia can’t hold back the smile from forming on her lips and doesn’t want to. “Wow, tall, dark, and psychic, a real triple threat,” she teases.

“Sometimes I fuckin’ wish,” Angel says while flicking his ashes. “Doesn’t change the fact that you played me.”

“Oh, come on, that is so unfair,” Mia insists. “I didn’t play _you_ , I played _my_ part. We all got what we wanted, didn’t we? I even made it easier on you by leaving before you did and skipping the awkward parts.”

“Or,” he counters while taking a step closer, “you skipped what could have been round two. Ever think about that?”

Mia’s cheeks flush. “Well, I am now,” she mumbles. “But, admit it, you like it, don’t you?”

“Like what?”

“That you fucked your president’s daughter,” she answers easily, and he shakes his head, fighting the smirk that wants to form on his face. “You do, it’s okay to admit it. Makes you feel a little bit like a rebel, maybe. When you’re sitting with him at Templo you’ll be able to look him straight in the eye all while thinking about how you know the noises I make, what it feels like when you’re inside me. After all, I’m not blood, right? So, it can’t be that weird for you.”

“Does blood matter when I’m thinking about fucking you in his chair too?” he asks, and now it’s her turn for her mouth to drop open. “Angel Reyes, nice to meet you,” he offers at her silence with a hand out and all.

“Mia Flores,” she replies automatically as her hand slides into his. “Are you still mad at me?” she wonders once she gains her bearings again. “Because if it counts for anything fucking you had nothing to do with you being a Mayan.”

Angel barks out a laugh and drops the butt so he can step on it, then lowers his head closer to her ear. “And I’ll fuck you again knowing you’re my president’s daughter, if that counts for anything,” he tells her, then steps back while dropping her hand.

Mia smiles up at him, but notices Bishop making his way back. “I’ll keep that in mind, but you never answered my question.”

Angel shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe we’ll have to find out a way to make it right.”

“Maybe we will. It was nice to meet you, Angel,” she says once Bishop reaches them.

“You too, Mia,” he confirms with a wink before turning around and heading back to work.

“Everything okay?” Mia asks her godfather as he reaches for his helmet.

“Yeah, just catching Taza up. You wanna follow me?” he answers with his leg already swinging over his bike. “You probably don’t want to leave your car here.”

“Sure.”

As Mia makes her back to her car she can’t help but look back, hoping Angel is still visible. He isn’t, but she wishes she could get another look.

She doesn’t know what it is about Angel, but he makes her forget what she’s running from, all the shit she’s been through. He makes her feel like the old Mia, the one before Jay, before she lost herself in all the anger she still carries. She feels safe with him, and it’s surprising, but she also doesn’t want to question it.

She’s had so little to be happy about lately, why overthink one of the few things making her feel that way?

-:-

“So, we’re standing in the middle of the best accommodation’s Oakland PD has to offer, Mia in the jail cell, me on the other side, if you can believe it—” Bishop stops to laugh along with the others gathered around them, much to her chagrin. “And she’s insisting it wasn’t grand theft auto, more like, what did you call it again?”

Mia looks down at the empty beer in her hand and shakes her head. She was such a fearless, stupid kid. What happened? “Mediocre borrow auto, I think it was,” she admits, and more laughter erupts around them.

“Right, and we start screaming at each other, mostly in Spanish, and the fucker who arrested her is laughing at us…” he goes on.

Mia squeezes Bishop’s shoulder as he tells the story. “I’ll be right back, I need a refill,” she mentions, and he nods, but keeps the telling of her past indiscretions.

It’s the day of ‘her’ party, as Bishop calls it. Even though she had met most of the club on the day of her arrival (and the one after it), he wanted a celebration in her honor, so here they are. Multiple bonfires are lit, girls are in every direction, and there’s probably more beer than they can all drink in one night, but she doesn’t want to underestimate the charter. It’s too soon to tell.

She could have gotten a beer at one of the many ice buckets around, but wants away from the crowd, somewhere she can hear her thoughts without loud music or pretending to smile. While she’s happy to be in Santo Padre, it’s a very different environment than the one she’s been living in lately.

Everyone is loud and rambunctious, unashamed and proud, and it’s wonderful, but takes some getting used to. She still finds herself looking over her shoulder every few minutes, biting her tongue to stop herself from saying whatever comment comes to mind, and second-guessing every other move she makes.

Mia knows it will take time to feel at ease in her life again but she’s taking the right steps, at least she thinks so.

As she makes her way into the clubhouse, it’s not empty as hoped.

“Need something?” EZ asks as he stands from the barstool in a hurry.

“Sit, please,” she urges, and he looks hesitant, but listens. “I’m not in the club, you’re not my prospect, I don’t need to be waited on.”

EZ smiles and nods. “I just wanted a few minutes away from…everything.”

Mia goes behind the bar and grabs herself a new beer. “Away from being everyone’s bitch for five minutes?”

“Right in one,” he laughs and they clink their bottles together. “So, you happy to be here, living with your dad?”

“Happy to be here, yes. Happy to be living with Bop, still up in the air,” Mia answers and takes a swig as he chuckles. “Surprisingly, he’s a clean guy, at least in his own way. Everything has its place. He’s a creature of habit and I’m throwing him all off.”

“Why do you call him ‘Bop’ by the way?” he asks.

“Well, when I was little I couldn’t pronounce Bishop, so I settled for Bop and it stuck. He’s my dad in every way besides blood, but calling him that…” she trails off, “felt kind of wrong because my real dad would have been around if he hadn’t died, you know?”

“I get that,” EZ agrees with a nod.

“I was lucky to have him, probably would be dead without him, or worse, like my mother,” she sighs, then takes a long swig.

“Sounds like there is a story there, but I think I’ll keep my questions to myself,” EZ decides a moment later.

“You know, they told me you were smart,” she teases and they both laugh. “So, how are you adjusting to the life? Aside from loving your bitch duties.”

“I do love my bitch duties,” he agrees, and she laughs again. She likes these Reyes boys. “It’s nice to be part of something, to feel like I’m working towards something. Being able to get close to Angel is honestly the best part…it’s easy to take the small shit for granted until you don’t have it anymore. Let’s just say I’m not taking anything for granted ever again.”

“You guys weren’t close before?”

“When we were kids we were best friends, I guess all kids close in age are. We grew up, got interested in different things—girls, sports, friends, and he’s still my brother, of course, but I took it for granted, so did he, I think. You think you’re invincible when you’re young. You think nothing bad will ever happen. It’s okay to skip out on family dinner to be with your girl because there will always be another one. It’s alright to flake on your brother because he’s your brother and you know he’ll get over it eventually. We don’t do that shit anymore. If I make a promise, I keep it. If I tell Pop I’ll stop by and help close up, I do it. If I tell the club I’ll be there when they need me, for whatever they need me for, I am,” he tells her.

“I like the way you think, EZ. I recently went through something that made me remember what’s important in life too. It wasn’t prison, at least, not the kind you went to,” she mumbles, “but still life-altering. There’s nothing more important than family, whether it be blood or the one you’ve chosen.”

“I will cheers to that,” EZ states, and their bottles clink together once more.

“Aye, prospect,” they both hear and turn towards the front door. Angel is walking up, that swagger being used with every step. “You might want to get out there. Coco is trying to set you up in a fight.”

“Of course, he is,” EZ sighs as he stands, and Mia giggles into her beer bottle. “It was nice talking to you, Mia, I hope we can get to know each other more.”

“Back at ya and if you need fixed up after let me know. I am a nurse. An unemployed one, but still,” she offers as he’s walking away.

When he reaches the door EZ turns. “I just might take you up on that. Thanks.”

Angel joins her behind the bar and grabs a beer of his own. “You flirting with my little brother, Flores?” he questions as he twists off the cap to his bottle.

Mia shrugs and tries to look innocent. “Well, I figured I might as well try for the whole set. Is your dad dropping by again later?”

Angel chokes on his beer and Mia laughs as he spits up a little. “Very fucking funny,” he grumbles while reaching for something to wipe his kutte off with.

“I thought so,” she agrees. “So, what are you doing in here? Aren’t you worried your brother is going to get his ass kicked by whatever patch Coco set him up with?”

Angel snorts. “The kid spent eight years in Stockton, he can hold his own. Besides, I hear we have this new nurse hanging around in case he gets in any trouble.”

“Oh really? Lucky guy,” Mia teases before lifting herself onto the bar. There’s a mirror behind it she can see herself in.

Her hair has held up in the somewhat tighter curls she tried for, thanks to the mousse, and her make up is still doing its job of hiding her ever-present eyebags and adding a little pink to her cheeks. The smoky eye is something she hasn’t attempted in a minute, but it’s not half-bad.

Her outfit is something she hasn’t worn in forever, since she lived in Oakland, actually. Jeans that are so tight they are a second skin and high-waisted, with a black top that laces and ties up the back like a corset. Still, a good bit of her stomach is showing, and some cleavage too. Bishop had given her a look back at his house, so a big black sweater was put on over top but has now fallen around her elbows.

“Shouldn’t you be out there enjoying your party?” Angel asks, breaking the objectification of herself.

“My party?” she questions before finishing off her beer and tossing it in the trash.

Angel looks around expectantly. “I’m sorry, isn’t all of this for you, or am I fooling around with the wrong girl?”

Mia shakes her head down at him, or directly at him more like, since at this height she’s in his eye line. “No, this party is for Bishop. We haven’t been on the best terms for a few years, so this is his chance to show me off, get the DILF card, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s more than that,” he tells her. “I’ve known the guy for years and I’ve never seen him smile this much. He’s genuinely happy you’re here, _querida.”_

Mia smiles down at her hands and picks at her black fingernails. “He is, huh?”

Angel lifts her chin so he can look her in the eye. “Mhm, but if I had a daughter that looked like you, I would not be parading her around in front of these fucks, that’s for damn sure,”

“Is that so?” she asks, her tone lined with laughter. Before she can stop herself, a hand reaches up and caresses his beard before tugging on it playfully.

“Not in those fuckin’ jeans, hell no,” he confirms.

“What’s wrong with my jeans?” she asks as her nails rub the underside of his chin. His beard is softer than it looks, he obviously uses something in it to make it that way, and she wants to tease him for it, but saves the information for later instead.

“I don’t know if you know this, but,” Angel starts and moves to stand between her legs, even pulling her a little closer by the backs of her knees, “if you put a quarter in your back pocket, I bet you could tell if it was heads or tails. That’s how tight they are on your ass.”

“You been starin’ at my ass, Reyes?” she questions with another light tug on his beard.

“Um, yeah,” he answers easily, and his face looks so ‘duh!’ that she can’t stop the laughter from bubbling up her throat. “Among other things,” he adds on, then takes another sip of his beer.

“It’s nice to know it’s being appreciated,” she whispers with both her hands cupping his cheeks now, and her forehead leans forward to rest on his.

“Among other things,” he repeats softly before nipping at her lips with his. It’s gentle and slow, pretty much the opposite of their encounter the other night.

“You know, I think I figured out how to make it up to you,” she murmurs when they pull away.

“Oh, yeah?”

Mia nods as a hand slips inside his shirt to scratch at his happy trail. “I know it sounds simple, but hear me out,” she whispers, to which he nods. “I can suck your dick.”

“That’s it, huh?” he asks with hands sliding up and down her thighs.

“Oh, but I’m really good at it,” she assures him, and he chuckles against her mouth. “Wanna see?”

Angel just nods and kisses her.

After a few moments Mia pushes him away and hops down off the bar. “C’mon,” she urges as she takes his hand and leads him down the hall towards the kitchen but enters the storage room instead.

“Really?” he questions and flicks on the light above them.

“What? You think you earned fucking me at the table where you hold Templo? Uh-uh,” she says while undoing his jeans and letting her sweater fall off in the process. “Besides, who says you get to fuck me? All I agreed to was sucking your dick.”

Angel grins at that and pulls her into a kiss that includes tongue and teeth and makes her feel dirty in the best way. “We’ll see about that,” he mumbles when they pull away.

“I guess we will,” she agrees and pushes his boxers down until his hard-on springs free. “I’m sure you heard this before, and I hate to boost your ego, but it has to be said,” she starts as her hand wraps around it and pulls just enough to make him sigh. “You really do have a nice dick.”

“I’ll keep that in mind—shit,” he swears when she drops to her knees and wastes no time taking him into her mouth. “Fuck.”

His hands thread into her hair and take hold to keep her in place. She’s able to take a large part of him into her mouth before he triggers her gag reflex and he moans at the flutter of the back of her throat.

She hums as her head bobs, one hand on the base of his cock, the other paying attention to his balls, softly massaging them with her fingertips. When his hands tighten on her scalp she pulls away from him, making a loud smacking sound with her lips.

“No, back,” Angel whines from above her and tries to maneuver her mouth back onto his cock, but she resists.

Instead, she pumps him with her one hand while her tongue swirls and plays with his tip. His hips buck and she can practically feel his impatience. Enjoying this side of him, Mia continues to tease. Her tongue curls and sweeps up and down the sides of his cock, her mouth even moving to suck on his balls lightly. They tighten against her tongue and she giggles a little—Angel Reyes likes his balls played with.

Before she can go on one of his hands pulls on her hair, the other lifting her from the armpit so she’s standing again and his lips are on hers, completely taking control of the situation until she’s the one backed against the wall and he’s attempting to undo her jeans.

“No, no, no,” Mia breathes, pushing on his chest, leaving him heaving in front of her. “I promised to make it up to you, remember? You’re finishing in my mouth, _bebé_.”

Angel shakes his head and crowds her against the wall, his lips hovering over hers. “I want to turn you around and take you right here, right now, _mi dulce_.”

“As lovely as that sounds,” Mia murmurs as her nose brushes against his, “I keep my promises. It’s my mouth or nothing, you choose.”

He leans down and kisses her roughly, biting at her lip in frustration. “On your knees, then.”

Mia grins, puckering her lips to kiss him once more before getting back into position. Pre-cum is leaking from his tip and she knows he’s close, even after their little intermission. She makes a show of licking it up and Angel groans while pressing his palms into the wall behind her, his hands threatening to turn into fists.

She takes him into her mouth after pumping him a few times, and he surprises her by bucking into her, triggering her gag reflex before she’s quite ready. A hand grabs onto her head, keeping her there, and she lets it happen even though it makes her eyes water. It only goes on for a moment before he’s emptying himself into her mouth and she opens her throat instinctually to swallow.

“Jesus Christ,” Angel huffs as he lets her go, his eyes closed and his face looking completely blissed out.

Mia wipes her mouth and picks up her sweater as she stands. “Told you I was good at it.”

He grins now, his eyes fluttering open. “Yes, you did,” he mumbles before kissing her and it shocks her a little, especially when he uses tongue because Jay never did that after she blew him, he didn’t like it. Of course, it didn’t happen regularly because the guy had a problem coming too quickly with even small amounts of foreplay.

Mia pushes the thought of her ex out of her head and lets Angel kiss her. It’s slow and drawn out, and his tongue is doing things that she wants recreated between her thighs. She forgot what it’s like to just be kissed, kissed really fucking well.

This guy cannot be fucking real.

“Well, I believe my job here is done,” she breathes after literally forcing herself away from him.

“Mine’s not,” Angel insists and tries to pull her back into his arms.

“That, my friend, is your problem,” she tells him while reaching for the doorknob.

“Seriously?” he asks and she bites her lip to keep from laughing at the sight of him. His pants are still pushed down below his ass, his dick is getting hard again, and he looks like a child who just got taken his favorite toy taken away.

“Weren’t you the one saying I have a party to get back to?” she questions and leaves before he does something to change her mind.

She stops in the bathroom to look herself over. Her lips are a little swollen, but not very noticeable, and she flips her hair a couple times so it’s not so apparent Angel’s fingers were in it. When she comes back to the bar, EZ is back, and Coco is there too, but no Angel.

“Wow, done already?” she asks as she reaches for what will probably be her last beer.

“It wasn’t really a fight,” EZ explains as Coco laughs. “He was pretty drunk. I tried to tell him it wasn’t a good idea.”

“Boy Scout threw one punch and knocked the fucker out,” Coco tells her. “He’s still laying in the cage.”

“I didn’t knock him out, I think he passed out on his own,” EZ insists. “I was wondering if you’d check him out though. We tried to wake him up and didn’t have much luck.”

“Sure thing,” Mia agrees and starts to follow EZ when Angel comes out from the back hallway. “We probably shouldn’t leave him there if he’s that drunk anyways.”

“Bro, you fucking missed it. Baby brother knocked someone the fuck out,” Coco boasts.

“I didn’t… never mind, c’mon,” EZ sighs and leads her out of the clubhouse.

Less people are milling around. She assumes quite a few either are sleeping it off somewhere, or a group headed back to Vicki’s for a whole different kind of fun.

“Hey, grab that,” Mia instructs EZ as they pass an empty ice bucket. He doesn’t question, just grabs it, and she thinks again, she really likes these Reyes boys.

He’s an older Mayan, the one passed out in the middle of the cage, and he’s snoring. He’s one of the guy’s riding through the area and stopped for the party. She opens his lids to check his pupils and shines her cellphone light in them—it’s so nice having a smart phone again, she thinks.

“Hey, Bop, this guy volatile?” she calls when she sees her godfather watching.

“No more than anyone else,” he answers with a shrug.

Mia nods and stands, the beer still in her hand. “Alright, EZ, pour it,” she instructs. A group has gathered to watch the show and EZ, once again, does as he’s told.

He wakes up screaming in Spanish and swinging at the both of them.

“Hey, watch it,” EZ threatens and pushes Mia behind him a little.

“The fuck was that for?” the man yells.

Mia crouches down to look at him. “If you would have rathered stay here and choke on your own puke and die all you had to do was say so,” she says sweetly.

“Get dressed and sleep it off in the clubhouse,” Bishop instructs the man, who still looks very grumpy.

“…definitely his fucking kid,” she hears him say as they exit the cage and she shakes her head, but is smiling all the same. She’ll never be offended by that statement again.

A few minutes later she finds herself away from everyone, nursing her beer, and looking up at the sky. There’s so much to see away from the lights of cities and pollution. All these stars aren’t visible in San Francisco, or even in Oakland. Everything is clearer out here, less complicated, and exactly as it seems.

“Hey,” someone greets from behind her causing her to jump and drop her beer. “Shit, sorry,” Bishop apologizes and picks it up for her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, just lost in my own head,” she attempts to laugh and takes the near-empty bottle from him. “What’s up?”

“You have a good time?” he asks, and Angel’s right, he hasn’t stopped smiling since she got here.

“A great time,” she confirms and looks up at the sky again. “It’s beautiful out here at night. There’s so many stars.”

Bishop looks up with her as an arm wraps around her shoulders. “I never really noticed before.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop noticing,” she murmurs.

“How much did you have to drink?” he questions and she smacks him on the stomach, and he laughs. “Listen, I don’t want you hanging around attempting to clean up after your own party. I asked around, Angel said he’d give you a ride home if that’s okay with you?”

“He did, did he?” Mia laughs and nods. “Yeah, that’s fine. But I’m happy to hang out and—”

“No, _pequeña_ ,” Bishop cuts her off. “We got this.”

“By ‘we’ you mean EZ?” she jokes and he laughs too.

“Something like that,” he replies. “I have a few things to take care of here, but I’ll be home in a few hours.”

They start walking back towards the clubhouse. “A few things to take care of, huh? Is that what they are calling it nowadays?”

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious, you know that?” he tells her and bumps into her shoulder with his.

“Anyone I need to give a talking to? Let them know how awesome you are and that I’ll kick their ass if—ah!” she squeals when he tickles her.

“Enough, Mia Valentina,” he states, and she laughs loudly.

“Yes, sir, Obispo, sir,” she goes on with a salute and all.

“Alright, Angel, get her home, will you? She needs to sleep it off,” Bishop calls over and it’s only now she notices they are near their line of bikes and Angel is already on his with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

“Will do, _jefe_ ,” the younger patch promises.

“Hey, I am not drunk,” she assures him as he kisses her cheek. “I’m not, I’m just in a good mood. Am I not allowed to be?”

“Yeah, just do it somewhere else,” Bishop tells her and she opens her mouth in fake shock. “Grab your helmet from my bike, don’t make him give his up, you know how I am about helmets.”

“Wow, I think you just lost about ten cool points,” Mia mumbles, but does as she’s told.

“There is nothing cool about splitting open your skull on the side of the road,” Bishop says in a firm tone.

“You really have a lot of confidence in my ride home, don’t you? You sure I shouldn’t pick a different one? Gilly, maybe? Or EZ?” she suggests while fastening the helmet to her head. “Oh, what about Coco, I’m sure he could show me a good time.”

“On the bike, Mia,” Bishop practically orders.

Mia grins. She missed teasing him. She’s one of the few who get away with it. “Fine, geez, if you’re gonna make me,” she sighs as she swings her leg over the bike and settles behind Angel.

“Make sure she gets in the house,” Bishop tells Angel. “And Mia, lock the door behind you, both bolts—”

“The cool points are dropping by the second,” Mia sing-songs and can feel Angel chuckling in front of her.

Bishop decides to ignore her and instead does that manly handshake they do. “Thanks for this. Safe ride home, brother.”

“Back at you, brother,” Angel responds as he kicks the engine over as he grabs ahold of the handlebars.

“So, I hear you selflessly volunteered to drive me home.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not a gentleman,” Angel assures her.

“Hm, I’ll be the judge of that,” she whispers in his ear and he revs the engine as they make their way out onto the road.

It might be the alcohol, or maybe the easy relationship her and Bishop seem to be falling back into, or even the anticipation of the sex she knows is going to happen again with Angel, but Mia feels happy.

It’s funny, the weightlessness of it, how her body is responding to it and making her giddy.

She knows that it’s fleeting—when she goes to bed bad memories will plague her dreams, she and Bishop will continue to not talk about her mother, that little voice in the back of her head will make her wonder what Jay is doing, how hard he’s looking for her, if he’ll ever find her.

But for now she gives in to the alcohol, the love she has for the man who raised her, and the growing affection for the man driving her home.

Mia gets caught up in watching the lights speeding by, reminding her of shooting stars in the sky, of the endless possibilities she has if she can stay hidden and keep her secrets. She doesn’t even notice they are slowing down until they are at a complete stop.

“What’s wrong?” she asks over the low rumble of his motorcycle.

“I don’t know about you, _mi dulce_ , but I always stop at stop signs,” he insists.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Ha-ha, this is more than a stop sign, where are we going?”

“That’s what I was going to ask you,” he replies, his head turned back to look at her. “We go straight, I take you home. We turn left we pass my apartment and take the long way. Your pick, _querida_.”

“Your apartment, huh?” she asks and squeezes his middle. “You think we’re there, yet? Going from a bathroom, to a storage closet, to your bed is a pretty big jump, don’t you think?” she teases. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that step yet.”

Angel’s mouth curls up into a smirk. “Believe it or not, I got a lot of fucking surfaces at my place if you think the bed is too much of a commitment for you.”

Mia lets out a loud laugh. “Fucking surfaces, huh? Nice choice of words.”

He revs the bike’s engine. “Waiting on you.”

Mia leans in closer to his ear. “Turn left. I want the scenic route,” she whispers. She feels his chest rumble as he chuckles but takes off without another word.

A few minutes later they are pulling into a sprawling apartment complex and Angel parks in the very last spot on the end marked with a letter and number, she assumes his assigned parking spot.

“Not bad, any of the other guys live here?” she asks as they get off the bike and undo their helmets.

“Why, wanna make a house call?” Angel counters, and she tosses her helmet at him, hitting him square in the stomach. “Oof, feisty.”

“I’ll show you feisty,” she mutters with her arms crossed in fake anger.

“Not tonight you won’t,” he tells her before bending down and maneuvering her body over his shoulder.

“Ah! Angel!” she exclaims, holding onto his hips for balance.

“You had your fun earlier, I’m in charge now,” he warns with a smack to her ass.

“Watch my head,” she pleads, the amusement in her voice obvious, as he walks up the steps to his second-floor apartment. “I don’t want to ruin the mood with a concussion.”

“Haven’t you learned by now? You’re safe with me, _querida_ ,” he assures her while unlocking his door. He kicks it shut behind them before setting her back on the ground.

“Whew, head rush,” she breathes and flips her head until her hair is out of her eyes.

Looking to Angel she finds he’s already taking off his kutte and it reveals a concealed gun holster underneath. He quickly does away with that too, dropping it on the table next to the door for now. She tries not to be turned on by the sight of him with a gun but fails miserably.

Having grown up around guns, they don’t scare her—in fact, Bishop taught her how to use one at thirteen years old right before her first “real” date. If she remembers correctly, he also gave her an expensive looking pocketknife around then, telling her that if she’s ever attacked to stick it in her assailant’s gut and twist.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she speaks up a moment later as he stares down at her during the silence. “You’re in charge remember? I’m just waiting to be told what to do.”

Angel shakes his head at her. “You know exactly what to do, you taught me that earlier, remember?”

“I left an impression, huh?” she jokes while slowly undoing that buttons to his shirt, but instead of the bare chest she wants, it’s a wife beater underneath.

“Oh, long before that,” he assures her, making her smile to herself and push the button-up down his shoulders.

Soon after she’s lifting the tank top and he takes the hint, tossing it aside all together. “There it is,” she breathes, smiling at the sight of his chest. Her fingertips instantly reach forward to play with his happy trail, lightly scratching down until they hit the button of his jeans.

Before she can continue Angel twists her hips so her back is to him and starts to untie the laces going up her spine. When it’s loose enough she raises her arms so he can take it off her altogether.

“I’m in charge, remember?” he whispers in her ear as he moves all her hair to one shoulder so his face can nuzzle in the other.

“If you say so,” she sighs contentedly, her head falling to one side to give him more room. His lips travel along her shoulder and neck, kissing lightly, his beard tickling her just so.

Her entire body jerks when his hands take ahold of her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and pointer fingers. “Didn’t get a change to pay attention to these the other night,” he says in a husky tone that makes her knees weak.

“What a shame,” Mia breathes and before she knows it Angel is scooping her up in his arms and dropping her on his couch none too gently.

“The couch okay? Or you think we should take this to the kitchen table?” he asks as he towers over her. “Don’t wanna skip too many fucking steps.”

Mia grins and takes off her shoes, socks included, before shrugging. “You’re in charge, remember?” she counters, being a brat and she’s fully aware of it. “Your call.”

Angel licks his lips as he looks down at her, his dick obviously hard in his jeans, the area becoming so tight it looks uncomfortable. Mia lifts a foot and starts to rub the bulge slowly, teasingly. “As lovely as this view is, and feels,” he says as he takes ahold of her foot to stop her, “I have some payback to do.”

“Payback?” Mia questions and lifts her hips as he pulls on her jeans. “I owed you, remember?”

He does that licking his lips thing again as if he knows it’s driving her fucking nuts. “Mhm and leaving me there like that means now I owe you,” he says and slips her underwear down her legs too.

Angel lifts both her legs up in the air and wastes no time licking all the way up her swollen pink slit. “Fuck,” Mia pants, her toes curling as it feels like he’s devouring her.

Just as she feels her pleasure building, he pulls away causing her to whine. It’s faint, but he hears it, and grins down at her as he wipes her juices from his beard. “Up on your knees, face the other way,” he orders and on with shaky limbs she does as she’s told.

She hears movement behind her but doesn’t look back. Suddenly her knees are being spread apart and she feels his head settle between them. “Shit,” she breathes as he positions her opening over his mouth.

Maybe it’s the lack of foreplay in the last two years or any real pleasure actually, but even if she had been getting off more than just to her own vibrator, Mia thinks Angel has a gift. He knows how to eat a woman out. It’s like he’s showing her how good he is at it because of how she teased him earlier.

And she’s starting to regret it.

As his tongue licks and flicks at her clit Mia grips onto the arm of the couch, her nails digging in. “Right there, like that,” she chants and curls over the arm, and honestly considers grinding down on his face and cutting off his air supply. He’s so good she thinks he really might have some sort of gills. 

She’s so close and it feels so good the muscles in her legs start shaking in need.

“Please, I need…” she trails off when she feels him shake his head at her request. “Yes, I can’t,” she stops when his tongue leaves her clit altogether and instead sweeps up inside her. “No, no, no,” she cries and before she even knows what she’s doing she’s off his face, off the couch, and on the floor crawling away from him.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?’ she hears above her and she just shakes her head with her eyes closed.

“I just need a minute,” she whispers, her body curling into a ball with her legs crossed to ease the ache.

“Here’s how this is going to play out,” Angel says, and she opens her eyes to see him dropping his pants and rubbing his own hard-on. The sight doesn’t help her situation any. “You’re going to come on my mouth first, or not at all.”

Her own words from earlier echo in her head and she curses herself.

“Your call,” he repeats her words once more.

Mia lets out a shaky breath and opens her legs to him. As he descends upon her she thinks that if he licks his lips one more time she’s going to slap him. Still, when those same lips pucker around her clit she threads her finger into his hair to keep him there.

He doesn’t tease much this time, because he probably knows she’s close to either hitting him or finishing the job herself if he doesn’t.

It’s at the exact moment he begins to hum with her clit in his mouth that she comes, and she comes hard. Her legs start to shake, fingers rattle along his hairline, and her eyes squeeze closed as he flicks at her nub through the entirety of it.

When he finally pulls away, Mia curls into herself once again and crosses one leg over the other. “Evil,” she manages to mumble.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she hears him say before she’s being put back onto the couch belly down. “I got plans for you, _mi dulce_.”

“Not to purposefully play on words, but I’m screwed,” she sighs and feels his lips ghost up her spine as he chuckles.

“Yes, you are,” Angel agrees while lifting her hips until she’s on all fours.

“Can’t wait,” she replies and moans when he slides two fingers into her, curling just so. They exit her as quickly as they enter, but before she can complain about it his fingers are replaced with his cock in one swift movement. “Oh, my God, holy shit.”

Mia moves back and forth, up and down, noises exiting her throat every time he’s completely sheathed inside her, filling her up. He’s mumbling something in in Spanish, but she can’t make out what.

Angel grips her hips when her moves become frantic, taking control with his dick deep inside her. “Sh, baby, I got you,” he promises as a hand wraps around her throat and his lips kiss at her temple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swears and holds onto the arm of the couch until her knuckles turn white. “Angel,” she moans, her voice low and needy.

“C’mere,” he murmurs and turns her head until their lips connect.

“Oh, my God,” she breaks the kiss in a moan and drops her head down to bury it in the cushions.

Angel pulls out of her and situates them so her legs are in between his and she’s lying flat. Mia pushes up on her hips so he can slide into her more easily and he does without warning. “Fuck,” he groans as he slides into the tight hole.

Mia sits up just enough so she can shake her ass in a way that’s proven successful in the past, but she only does it for a few moments before Angel takes over, leaning down over her and fucks her even deeper, making her cry out so loud she bites a cushion to stiffle it.

“You like that?” he questions in her ear and she nods into the cotton she’s still biting. “I wanna hear you, _querida,_ ” he urges, using his hand to pull up on her throat and let go of the cushion. He continues his movements and she tries to keep in her shrieks, but it’s not easy. He’s hitting a spot that’s only been felt once or twice before in happy accidents, but Angel’s not holding back.

“If you don’t… I’m gonna—” she manages between thrusts and cries.

“Do it,” he tells her and speeds up. “You have any idea what it feels like when you come on my cock, baby?” he asks as she feels herself start to spasm. “Your pussy—fuck,” he stops as she starts to come. “Just like that. Your pussy is so tight, and when you come your whole fucking body shakes, your pussy included.”

He let’s up when she screams, unable to hold back and her entire body sags, but he’s right, she is shaking. When her body settles Angel pulls out of her and she notices he’s still hard—he hasn’t come yet.

Seriously, he isn’t fucking real.

Mia flips over, still in between his legs, and finds him stroking himself above her. “I know, I know, you’re not done with me,” she sighs and he chuckles. “But a girl needs a minute to recuperate.”

“You want me to be done?” Angel questions while opening her legs and resting them on his hips.

“Fuck no,” she answers easily and links her fingers through his, pulling until he’s on top of her and presses her lips against his. “Now, fuck me deep and slow and don’t stop until you come too.”

Angel smiles against her mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Review it!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long this took, and how long this ended up being.  
> Also sorry for no sex scene. Sometimes you're just not in the mood. I promise there will be many more sexy times as the story continues.
> 
> CANON CHANGE:  
> Esai Alvarez has been aged down and is now being played by Manny Montana.  
> Yes, he will be making an appearance, many actually.

“Pizza!” Letty calls out as she enters the house just a few steps ahead of Mia.

Immediately, all construction noises cease, the small hand tools are dropped, and they are closing in.

“Fucking finally,” Coco says as he takes the pizzas from his daughter. “I was starting to feel like we’re working in a real fucking sweatshop, like no food or breaks until you’re done, you know?”

“Dude, you take a smoke break every fucking five minutes, calm down,” Angel instructs while freeing Mia’s own hands of the small pizza and box of Styrofoam on top without a word.

“Hey! These are for me and Letty, you each got your own pizza,” Mia complains with hands out.

“What, I’m not allowed to help? Be nice?” he questions and holds the food above his head so she can’t reach.

“Fine. Thank you, now give it back!” she whines and follows him to the kitchen to join the others, jumping for it the whole way.

“No, I don’t like your attitude.”

“Angel! C’mon, I’m hungry!” Mia exclaims with hands on her hips and a frown on her face

“Apologize first,” he says, and their audience laughs.

“I’m going to slap you,” she counters grumpily.

He looks her up and down, noting her ripped jeans and a tight, white tee matched with a black jacket and black and white sneakers on her feet. “Can you even reach without heels on?”

Mia’s eyes turn to slits before tapping him in the balls. It’s not so hard to hurt him, but enough to put him into defensive mode and lower the food. “Now, was that so hard?” she asks sweetly while handing the Styrofoam off to Letty.

“You better watch your back, Flores,” he warns, ignoring the snickers around them, and reaches for his pizza.

“Oh, but you’re so much better at it than I am,” Mia teases in return.

Angel nods as he swallows. “Can’t argue that. Hey, prospect, beer?” he asks of his brother a moment later.

EZ turns from his own pizza and takes enough out of the fridge for all of them besides Letty. She gets a bottle of Coke instead.

“Wait, you guys have beer here? While you’re working? I’m doing to die in a house fire, aren’t I?” Mia sighs while looking down at her white spinach pizza.

“Nah, there was nothing wrong with the wiring, so we haven’t had to mess with it. You’re safe from house fires,” EZ assures her.

Coco, on the other hand, makes an unsure noise and shrugs. "That’s not saying the crackheads who lived here before didn’t fuck with it. So, if you do die, it wouldn’t be on our consciences."

“That is what I was worried about, how you all would feel if something happened, not about actually dying,” Mia tells him in monotone.

“Good looking out, no worries, we’d be alright,” Coco insists, and the group laughs some more.

Upon further inspection to Bishop’s rental, her godfather decided a small remodel was in order before she could move in. “Nothing huge,” he promised her, “just some paint and maybe new carpet.” Well that was a month ago, and she has yet to move in.

What he meant by ‘nothing huge’ is repainting every single room, new molding, replacing over half the light fixtures, a few new windows, and a completely redone bathroom upstairs. Then, after finding hardwood in good condition under said carpet he decided he wanted certain rooms without carpet at all which meant pulling up good carpet that wouldn’t have even needed replaced. The kitchen, luckily, was the best-looking room in the house when they started, having been redone before the last tenants moved in, so all he insisted on was a fresh coat of paint, a few new appliances, a couple tiles replaced, and a good cleaning.

Mia’s been told the upstairs is ‘almost done’ and they are finishing up the living room now.

She has also noticed new pieces of furniture showing up when she isn’t around. Which, that isn’t hard to do since she only stops by once or twice a day to feed the guys and ‘make sure they are doing their fucking work’ at Bishop’s request. A new queen-sized bed appeared two weeks ago, a dining set a few days later, and after commenting on how comfy his couch is one similar has taken residence in the garage, not that she is supposed to know about it.

Mia's done her best to not argue with Bishop about all of it. She knows he means well, however, when she looks around all she sees is her godfather silently pleading with her to stay, possibly forever, but when asked about long-term plans she avoids giving any real answer.

It’s not dependent on her, not really, it depends on whether her past catches up with her.

“So how much longer until you guys are finally done with this place?” Letty asks as she eats her chicken fingers. “I can’t wait to have a sleepover.”

Mia smiles at the younger girl and pushes all thoughts of her ex away. Over the past month the two of them have formed a close bond. She sees a piece of herself in Leticia—being one of the few Mayan daughters, having mothers who barely cared, and men who aren’t quite their fathers as their sole parent. Coco is actually Letty’s dad, but she didn’t know that until a couple months ago, so it’s still ‘completely weird’ according to her.

She hopes to be the female figure she needed when she was stupid teenager for Letty. Growing up around these guys isn’t easy. It’s certainly never dull, but Mia remembers how kids at school used to look at her, with that mixture of fear and pity, of jealousy and hate. She remembers what boys thought of her, that because of how women are around the MC that she would be both easy to sleep with and manipulate.

That last part wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wants it to be different for Letty.

“Well, Prez is supposed to have a walk-through in a day or two. If he doesn’t see anything else wrong with it, hopefully next week,” Gilly says when no one speaks up.

Mia likes Gilly, she likes all the guys, but these four are a package deal. Angel is the ringleader, EZ his sounding board, Coco the one who challenges him when necessary, and Gilly is the silent partner. He only really speaks when spoken to, but is always listening, and is very much a protector.

“You guys said that last week,” Letty reminds them.

“Girl, you know we had the Vegas run and it set us back. Stop pushing,” Coco warns her. “It ain’t even your house.”

“No, but we’re going to have a sleepover the weekend she moves in,” Letty tells him like its common knowledge. And honestly, she’s been talking about it so much it practically is.

“Really?" Angel questions with a playful look towards Mia, never one to pass up an opportunity to give her shit, or flirt with her. Sometimes both happen in the same sentence. "Anyone else invited to this sleepover?”

As always, she decides to play along. “Why? You need a facial? We can buy extra masks.”

“It’d be nice to be thought of, that’s all,” he insists. “Besides, it’s not me that needs the facial. EZ’s skin is shit compared to mine.”

“Hey,” his little brother speaks up and it sounds so pitiful Mia can’t help but laugh.

“Shoulda seen his face in junior high. Pimple fuckin’ city,” Angel goes on. “Our mom had to buy him special cream and everything.”

“Can we stop? Like, that’s the point of this?” EZ asks as he turns just a little red.

“The point is mine was clear and yours wasn’t,” Angel responds.

“And when we were kids you were fat and I wasn’t,” EZ says with arms crossed. “So, shut up.”

Everyone laughs as they eat, but Mia is practically jumping up and down with joy. “Oh, my God, please tell me you have pictures. I want to see pictures of little chunky Angel,” she pleads.

“Stop, it wasn’t that I was fat exactly,” Angel tries to stop her giggles. “I wasn’t! I was a little late to puberty, alright?”

“Dude, you were definitely chunky,” EZ states. “Accept it.”

“No, I just didn’t grow for, like, a year, that’s all,” Angel argues. “You, quit laughing,” he demands while staring Mia down. “I’m serious, I was pretty much the same height for a year. Ezekiel was almost as fuckin’ tall as me, and he’s two years younger than me. Then, I shot up, like, six fuckin’ inches.”

“And you lost all your baby fat?” Mia asks, still snickering.

“As a matter of fact, yes, I did, and now look, all muscle, baby,” Angel says and lifts his shirt to show the abs that he knows she’s fond of. And, sadly, she’s not allowed to touch them because no one knows they are sleeping together.

“Damn,” they all hear Letty mumble and Mia can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up her throat. She would have said the same thing if she hadn’t seen them before.

“Alright, put that shit away, I got a kid here,” Coco urges and throws a napkin at Angel’s chest.

“What, this shit?” EZ asks while lifting his shirt too.

“Hold on, I gotta get a picture of this,” Letty says, her phone already in her hands.

Coco smacks it away. “Stop, they are like your uncles.”

“No, they definitely aren’t,” she counters, making the brothers laugh while dropping their shirts.

Mia gives Letty a pointed look that the girl ignores. She knows all about the younger girl’s crush on EZ, and she also knows how completely unattainable and stupid it is. Letty will grow out of it eventually, probably when she gets a crush her own age. At least, her next crush better be someone her own age.

“You’re real funny. You get that shit you needed for school?” Coco questions as he stands having eaten his whole pizza save three slices. Letty nods with her mouth full. “Good, we should get going. You got school in the morning and I got my own shit to do.”

“Yeah, what’s her name?” Angel asks innocently while picking up another slice.

“Ew,” Letty mutters as the others laugh. “Let’s go before this conversation continues. Is your car unlocked, Mia? The stuff for my project is still in it.”

“Yeah, it’s open, help yourself.”

“I’m going to head out too. I told Pop I’d stop by before he went to sleep,” EZ mentions.

“Let me know if there’s anything good on the history channel,” Angel jokes.

“Don’t worry, I know how you feel about a good Vietnam documentary,” EZ assures him and the brothers share a laugh.

Everyone starts getting up and throwing away their paper plates and saying their goodbyes. For now, anyways, since most of them will meet up back at the clubhouse before the night is over.

Mia’s just finishing up putting all the leftover pizza slices into one box for the boys to fight over tomorrow before she brings over their lunch when Angel comes back into the kitchen.

“I locked your car,” he says, and she jumps about a foot in the air. “I know it’s a piece, but you still shouldn’t leave it unlocked like that.”

She turns with a hand over her heart. “Don’t do that, I thought you were leaving,” she scolds him.

“When did I say that?” he questions with a crinkle to his eyebrows.

Mia rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, maybe when everyone said they were leaving, and you walked out with them?”

“I never said I was leaving. Besides,” he starts while approaching her and sets his hands on her hips, “I can’t say goodbye before I get a proper hello.”

“Oh, a proper hello?” Mia asks as his head dips in closer to hers. “What would that entail, exactly?”

“This,” he says and lifts her onto the island, their lips already connected and tongues threatening to meet.

His beard brushes against her chin and she reaches up to lightly scratch at it. “Mm, scruffy,” she murmurs, having admitted her liking his beard to him before. He does, in fact, use a special beard shampoo and pomade in it.

He smiles at her and lifts his chin so she can have better access. “I swear, if I was a dog this shit would make me do that kicking leg thing,” he mutters with his eyes closed.

“Hm, you’re cute,” she tells him as his chin practically sits in her hands, his face the picture of peace.

She’s not ashamed to admit that Angel quickly has become her best friend, not only in Santo Padre, but in general. Of course, she’s never been one to have many friends. Growing up other kids were weary of her, of Bishop rolling up in a Harley to pick her up from school, and their parents only saw the kutte on his back.

When it came to the club, there weren’t many other Mayan kids. Most of them, like Coco with his other two that aren’t Letty, pay for them but aren’t really involved in raising them. Sometimes, when it was a son, they’d come back around during their teen years, want to be like their biker dad, and prospect once they hit eighteen.

Her best friend was Marcus Alverez’s son Esai, but she hasn’t spoken to him since she left Oakland when her and Bishop had their big blowout. Cutting the club out of her life included Esai, and no matter how much he tried to claw his way back in she didn’t let him. That’s a bridge she hasn’t repaired yet.

“You look tired, _osito_ ,” she whispers and his eyes pop open.

Angel smiles lazily. “Is that what I am to you, huh? A teddy bear?”

“My teddy bear,” she corrects.

“Let’s keep that between us, huh?” he murmurs when his eyes slide closed again as she continues to scratch at his chin. “Wouldn’t want the guys to know how sweet I am on ya.”

Mia holds back a laugh. “As far as they're concerned the only thing you’re sweet on is my ass.”

“Ain’t no hiding that, _querida,_ ” he agrees. After a few minutes Angel’s eyes open and his face breaks out into a smile. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it shiny or is it chocolate?” she immediately asks, making him laugh and lift his chin from her hands.

“Neither it’s upstairs,” he replies and turns around to signal for her to jump onto his back, and she does, happily.

Mia tightens her hold around his shoulders. “Ooh, a sex swing? I’m in, but Bishop might be pissed."

Angel's laugh in return is loud and boisterous. “Nah, not that, but I can always add one later if you want,” he says and begins making his way up the steps. “Remember last week when Bishop told you to think about colors for the house? And you weren’t sure about what you wanted to paint your bedroom?”

“Uh, yes,” Mia confirms as they reach the top. “But Bishop said I had time to choose, that painting was the last thing you guys were going to do and I had colors for all the other rooms so you guys could get started.”

“It is, but” Angel stops at the master bedroom and lets her slide down his back until her feet touch the ground. “I got an idea. If you hate it, I can fix it, make it whatever you want, I just,” he sighs, his nerves obvious.

“Hey,” Mia says and grabs his hands so both of them are intertwined, “I’m sure I’ll love it, whatever it is, just because you did it,” she assures him. “Unless it’s just plain white, then that’s kinda lame and I’ll probably laugh.”

Angel chuckles and shakes his head at her. “It’s not white, promise.” He opens the door hesitantly with an unsteady breath. “Just… don’t lie if you don’t like it, okay?”

“Promise,” she echoes back to him and he flicks the lights on before ushering her inside.

Mia finds the room painted a pink-orange shade, the kind in a sunset, but it’s the ceiling that makes her gasp. It’s blue, dark blue, with slashes of different shades throughout to resemble the night sky, along with some yellow and gold. It’s very Van Gogh, but of course not Van Gogh.

“Oh, my God,” she whispers with hands over her mouth.

“And, uh, there’s this too,” Angel tells her before slapping the lights off and the ceiling lights up. There are glow in the dark stars on it. Not enough to be childish or make the room bright, but just enough to look like stars faraway in the sky.

“Angel,” Mia sniffs.

“I remembered how much you liked looking at the stars when you first moved here,” he explains. “And I woke up last week to some stupid infomercial on the TV in the middle of the night. They were selling some _Starry Night_ knockoffs and the idea came to me. I hope you don’t mind or, I don’t know, if you don’t like it I can—”

“Stop,” she insists with a hand on his chest as she looks up. “It’s… it’s—I don’t even know what to say, Angel.”

“You like it?” he asks, and his voice is so soft, so vulnerable Mia’s heart tightens.

For a moment all she can do is nod. “I love it,” she finally manages and blinks to stop the tears from forming. “I’ve never had anyone go out of their way for me like this except Bishop, at least, not unless it was some sort of apology from a boyfriend at the time.” The lights come back on and Mia turns to face him, but Angel is looking anywhere but her. “Did you do this yourself?”

He nods and looks up at the artwork, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah.”

“How did you—I mean, how?” she asks with a knot in her throat.

“I used to paint when I was a kid, and into high school. I, uh, stopped when my mom died,” he confesses with his eyes now on his hands as he plays with his rings. “I was rusty as fuck, but I don’t know, I think it turned out pretty good.”

“Hey,” Mia urges and lifts his chin until their eyes meet. “I love it.”

Angel nods and licks his bottom lip. “Really?”

“I absolutely adore it,” she promises, her voice low and gets on her tip toes while wrapping an arm around his neck to pull until their foreheads are touching. “And the fact that you did it yourself? That makes it so much better. You’re very talented, _mi osito_.”

“Again, with the teddy bear? You’re gonna fuck up my rep, _querida_ ,” he teases.

“Well, the rep you have with me is being almost too good in bed and possibly the sweetest man I know, so,” she stops with a shrug and starts backing him up until he hits the bed half-covered in plastic.

Angel falls on the bed with a laugh and shoves at the plastic covering until it hits the floor. “Almost too good? Damn, gotta step up my game then.”

Mia moves to straddle him. “Please don’t,” she replies with her hands on his chest. “I would end up ugly crying, like, all the time.”

“Ugly crying, huh?” he asks and removes her hands from underneath his shirt where she had been trying to push it up. “Now I know what the goal is.”

“I am serious, Angel Reyes, do not,” she warns and starts fighting for control of her hands so she can continue to undress him. “Let me go! I want to make it up to you,” she insists as they begin to wrestle.

Angel rolls them over and pins her hands above her bed. She tries extremely hard not to get turned on, but fails miserably. “I don’t want you to make it up to me,” he tells her once she stops struggling. “I did this out of the goodness of my heart and making it up to me implies that I did it for something in return.”

Warmth spreads from Mia’s chest down to her toes. “Okay, then, can we fuck just because I’m horny then? It has nothing to do with me being incredibly grateful for what you’ve done.”

“You sure?” he questions and tightens his hold when she begins to resist again.

“Nothing at all,” she confirms as she squirms. “I just realized why you’re so good with your hands and I want to feel them all over me.”

“Alright then,” Angel lets go and sits back on his haunches. “Strip, everything off.”

“You’re sitting on me,” Mia reminds him with a raised eyebrow.

“I’ll help with the bottom stuff, but I think you can handle the top,” he tells her while pulling his own shirt off. “Hurry up, I wanna see if I can get you to do that ugly crying thing.”

Mia glares at him once the top is over her head. “Do not. This mascara is not waterproof.”

“Not my problem. I’m always prepared,” he replies while flashing a condom in front of her face, “it’s time you start to be too.”

She rolls her eyes while undoing her bra. “I can’t believe you’re about to get laid after saying that.”

Angel grins and starts to take off her pants. “I’ve gotten laid after saying tons of dumb shit. It’s the pretty face that gets the panties to drop,” he says before sliding her cheeky lace underwear down. “What my mouth can do helps though. So, get up, you’re gonna sit on my face.”

“Geez, bossy,” she mumbles but readily slips out from underneath him and onto her knees.

“You’re into it,” he murmurs before pressing his lips against hers as his hands slide down her bare sides.

“Only when your mouth or dick are involved,” Mia says, breathless, when they pull away.

Angel grins as his hand slides between her legs. “We’ll see about that.”

About an hour later, Mia makes her way downstairs looking for Angel. Guys have it so much easier, she thinks. All they gotta do after sex is get dressed. Being the handsy motherfucker her boy is, Mia looks like she’s been through a tornado after they’re done, and needs put together, not to mention a moment to pee. He just throws away the condom and zips up before sauntering off.

“Angel?” she calls after not seeing him in the living room or upon entering the kitchen.

“Outside!” she hears and notices the back door slightly ajar.

Mia finds him outside on a lawn chair, the kind people lay out on next to a pool, apparently something else she has inherited from Bishop’s previous tenants. Angel is holding a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other. “Room for me?”

Angel tilts his head back to look at her before parting his legs. “Always for you.” She lifts a leg of her own and swings it around to straddle his hips. “Beer?”

She nods and takes a sip before handing it back. “So,” she starts and stares at him expectantly.

“Sooo?” he echoes while taking a swig.

“So, you paint?”

Suddenly, the beer becomes interesting, as it’s all he can look at now. “I did.”

“ _Osito,_ you just pulled a Michelangelo on my bedroom ceiling. You paint, present tense,” Mia insists.

“I… relapsed,” he attempts to joke, but Mia shakes her head and lifts his chin.

“You know you can talk to me, right? We don’t just have sex, at least, that’s not all this is for me,” she admits with a tint of pink in her cheeks. “You’re like my best friend and I don’t say that easily. I’m not really one for friends.”

“I don’t believe that shit for a second,” Angel immediately disagrees with one last puff of his cigarette before flicking the cherry off the tip and turning his head so the gray smoke doesn’t hit her face. “But, if you gotta know, and I know you won’t shut the fuck up until I tell you,” he goes on and she grins in triumph, “my mom liked to paint. It was her thing. It was mainly religious shit, you know,” he says with a shrug, “but she was really good. She even has a piece hanging in the church we went to growing up.” He stops to smile, and Mia can’t help but mirror it, the genuine happiness coming from him infectious. “I remember when it first got displayed, my dad told everyone his wife painted it. I swear, he worked it into every single fucking conversation somehow.”

“And she passed it on to you?”

Angel puts the beer bottle down and wraps his arms around her waist, his hands resting on her ass. “Not really, I mean, not intentionally, I guess. I was an angry kid, it started in junior high, back when I was a chubby fuck. I punched a few holes in the walls, and every time they made me fix it, but that just made me angrier,” he says and looks passed her head. “I don’t know, I guess it pissed me off that they made me patch them up without really asking what was wrong? My mom tried, but—” he stops and shakes his head, “she wasn’t the one I wanted to open up to.”

“You wanted your dad,” Mia states and Angel nods, his eyes meeting hers again.

“One day I got sent home from school for fighting and my mom had to come get me. Pop wouldn’t leave the shop, said it wouldn’t matter if he did, that I wouldn’t listen to him anyway,” he continued, “maybe he was right, I don’t know.”

Mia slips her hands under his shirt, her fingers drawing endless loops and shapes on his bare skin. “What was the fight about, do you remember?”

Angel nods slowly. “They used to call EZ Kodak because of his memory. Some asshole cornered him in the bathroom, had a friend hold him down while he pushed some sleazy magazine in his face and told him to remember it because it would be the only naked girl he ever saw or some shit. I was chubby, but EZ was as thin as a fucking rail. That kid’s metabolism is no joke,” he comments with a faraway look in his eyes, like he’s reliving the memory. “I found out and took the fucker down. I remember being pulled off him and looking at EZ, he was so embarrassed. Before they took me away, he asked me not to tell, so I didn’t. I didn’t tell what the kid did to him, and the little dick didn’t fess up to what he did either, so all they knew was that I held him down and kicked his ass.”

“That… sucks. It definitely made you look bad,” Mia points out with a stink face. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m his big brother, I do what I gotta do,” Angel says easily, and she knows without a second thought he would do it again. “I expected to come home and go straight to my room or have a list of shit to do around the house. Instead, Mom brought me outside to the patio. There was this big, white canvas and a bunch of paint. She told me to paint my feelings. I thought it was stupid as fuck.”

Mia smiles, picturing little Angel looking at his mom with his ‘the fuck is this?’ expression and it’s definitely a funny image. “But you started painting?”

“I did it to just get it over with so I could go to my room, but I don’t know, it helped me get aggression out,” he admits. “My mom did religious realism, but I was super into abstract. I was throwing fucking paint around so fast my chubby ass worked up a sweat,” he chuckles at the memory. “It didn’t turn into anything, just a big shit colored blur, but it was better than punching a hole in the wall I had to fix the next day. Every time I got angry my mom had a canvas for me. I learned, I developed my own style, and I started taking classes at school. Sometimes I even watched my mom, asked her questions, and helped her a little bit. It became our thing.”

“That’s sweet,” Mia comments, her fingers now scratching at his happy trail as they often do.

Angel’s lips slowly stretch into a wistful smile. “I got real into charcoal for a while. Fuck, everything was covered in it. EZ hated it since we shared a room. My mom was annoyed because of the laundry, but she never said anything. Eventually, I settled on acrylic as my main medium. I would have so many fucking layers that it would take so fucking long to dry. I kept stealing her hair dryer to make it dry faster. She got so annoyed she bought me my own.”

“What did you do with all your work? I would like to see them, but I don’t think there is anything hanging at your place, or the clubhouse, or—”

“When she died, I quit,” Angel cuts her off. “It was our thing, and without her…” he trails off with a shake of his head, “I didn’t want to do it anymore, or be reminded of it. I stashed all my shit in the basement, it’s still there unless Pop tossed it.”

“What about her stuff?”

“It’s at the house, Pop still has a few displayed, has all her supplies exactly where she left them. I swear he turned parts of the house into a shrine. I could barely go in there right after she died and—” he falters, his voice deep and his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Um, I kept what she made for me in my old bedroom. I couldn’t look at it every day, I still can’t,” he admits. “I don’t know how Pop does it.”

Mia’s hands move to rest on his chest, rubbing softly to comfort him. “It’s okay that it still hurts, o _sito_ ,” she assures him, and he drops his head while nodding. “The more you bury it, the more it hurts when it come out,” she whispers and kisses his head, her hands framing his face now.

“I didn’t—” Angel stammers and coughs to clear the knot in his throat. “EZ and I weren’t as close when we were teenagers, we had different shit going on in our lives, but I always had my ma. Sometimes I told her shit she didn’t even wanna hear, you know,” he chokes out and keeps shaking his head, but Mia keeps her hands firm. “We were closer than they know. Pop and EZ had each other, they talked all the time, but she was the person I talked to. With her gone…”

“I know,” she murmurs and kisses his forehead, his temple, anything she can while he refuses to look at her. “I’m here, _mi angelito,_ I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” she promises over and over, her voice soft and hopefully soothing to him. She knows he’s settled a bit when he takes one of her hands in his and opens it to kiss the palm, a silent thank you she accepts. “Did your dad or EZ ever mention anything about it? About you not painting anymore?”

Angel shrugs nonchalantly and picks his head up. His eyes are glassy, and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she simply kisses each one chastely to let him know it’s okay. “EZ mentioned it a few times, but I told him to shut the fuck up and he did. I told him to shut the fuck up a lot when she died. He learned to stop pushing and I stopped giving a fuck about pretty much everything.”

“Is that why he went after the person who killed her, and you didn’t?” Mia asks, and instantly regrets it, but Angel doesn’t move or retreat into himself, even if he does tense up considerably.

His hands find her ass again, a way of comforting himself, she thinks. “EZ kept wanting it to be more than a robbery, more than just a senseless murder. It was like he couldn’t see anyone wanting to do wrong by her because she was like a saint.”

“But you could?”

Angel looks her in the eye now. “There’s a lot of evil people in the world. Our mother wasn’t spared because she was a good person. Good people get the shit end of the stick all the time. Ezekiel is the smartest person I know, but he couldn’t wrap his head around that. It ate at him. Sometimes I think if I didn’t push him away I could have helped him, stopped him, something. But I was too busy doing anything I could to not think about it, about her, what happened, that my little brother had to be the one to find her, that my father got his heart broken, and how fucking lonely I was with her gone.”

“Hey, everyone deals with shit in their own way,” Mia assures him. “EZ wanted to fix it, bring her killer to justice. You tried to ignore it because you couldn’t deal with the pain. What happened isn’t your fault, it’s not your brother’s either. And EZ doing what he did… he’s too headstrong to have let it go. It probably still would have gone down, but instead of your dad losing one son to the prison system, he would have lost two.”

Angel chuckles and licks his lips. “He lost me a long time ago. Ever since EZ was a toddler I lived in his shadow. He was the golden boy, the sports star, he was supposed to get out of here, be someone important. There were no aspirations for me, no dream to follow, it was all on EZ. He and Pop were always close, always reading shit, having these meaningful conversations that would stop as soon as I walked into the room. When EZ got locked up it was like Pop had nothing left because not only was his wife gone, but his best friend was too.”

“Angel—”

“It was the loneliest fucking year of my life until the club came to town,” he cuts her off, his hands pulling her closer. “I started to prospect as soon as possible. It’s a family, and I hadn’t had one since my mom died, and fuck, I needed something, anything, to hold on to. It wasn’t what my mom would have wanted, but I had to stop pretending things were gonna be different between me and Pop. I’m never gonna be like EZ and he never tried to understand me, even after EZ went away. Every Sunday I went to the house for dinner and we barely said five words to each other that weren’t about sports. Every holiday was a letdown. I’d stop at the shop a few times a week to check in, just to make sure he was okay. He’d give me meat and send me away.”

“What about now that EZ’s home?”

He sighs. “It’s better, I guess. He has his buddy back. Sunday dinners are more lively. He accepts the club a bit more now that EZ’s a prospect, but it’s still the same with me and him.”

“But now you have your brother back,” Mia insists, her voice hopeful.

At that, Angel smiles, and it’s real. “I do. I forgot how much I missed him, how much I love him. The MC kept me busy, but having him back, and prospecting? Sometimes I feel like we’ve never been closer.”

“At least you have that. Only child over here, remember?” she reminds him. “Bishop’s done so much for me that I can never thank him enough, but having a sibling is different. I would be in a room full of people and still feel completely alone. There’s just stuff you can’t tell your dad.”

“I asked Bishop what happened to your dad, to Valentino,” Angel confesses, and Mia’s eyebrows raise. “All he said was that he was shot.”

Mia looks down at their laps and nods. “He was. Eleven times.”

“Damn.”

She peers back up and shrugs. “The risk comes with the life, and my dad wanted to be part of the Mayans ever since _Tio_ started it, Bishop too.”

“Wait, you call Marcus Alvarez _Tio_?” Angel asks, his face almost comical.

Mia can’t help but smile, even with their topic of conversation being what it is. “Yeah, I know you guys all see him as your beloved _Padrino_ , but to me, he’s the guy who did something completely over the top at every single birthday of mine until I was, like, sixteen,” she explains, her lips still curved upwards. “I mean, when I was eight, he brought a pony to my party. A fucking pony. When I turned eleven, he got me a trampoline and put it at the clubhouse. It was broken before I turned twelve, but it was fun while it lasted.”

“Well, now I know what to ask him for my birthday,” Angel comments and she barks out a laugh. “Your pop was from Oakland?”

“Yep, born and raised. He and Bop grew up together, and what Bishop wanted my dad wanted too. They had similar backgrounds—immigrant parents, hard home lives, just not an easy upbringing. They came up together and quickly became part of _Tio_ ’s inner circle once they were patched in.”

“What happened?”

Mia moves her hands his chest and starts wringing them together. “There was some new MC trying to make a name for themselves,” she starts, and Angel’s hands make their way to hers, linking them together. “I guess they figured what better way to do that than to take out the president of the mother chapter of the Mayans?”

“Dumb fucks,” Angel swears with a shake of his head. “That shit doesn’t make you legit, it starts fucking wars.”

“Yeah,” Mia murmurs. “They were in Oakland doing business and my dad saw the windows go down. He pushed _Tio_ to the ground and pulled out his gun. He took most of the hit. Bishop took one in the arm himself. My dad was dead within a few minutes, before the police even got there, or so I’m told.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel says quietly. “You were five, right?”

She nods. “Bishop insisted on being the one to tell me and my mom. I remember her screaming and falling to the ground, then Bishop coming over to me,” she recalls, blinking to keep her eyes clear. “He told me, and I refused to believe him. I started hitting him actually, and he had just gotten shot so even though I was five it had to of fucking hurt. Eventually he just bear hugged me until I started crying.”

“And then he stepped up for your dad.”

Mia nods. “After the funeral, I wouldn’t let Bishop leave my sight. I would throw the biggest tantrum if he left. And my tantrums weren’t just screaming and crying like other kids. I went fucking postal. I threw shit, broke whatever was in my way. I would get so worked up I made myself sick. _Tio_ gave Bop some time off from club stuff to help me and my mom, to spend time with me so I wouldn’t turn into the Tasmanian Devil every time he left the room.”

“You know, I’ve heard you talk about Bishop raising you, what you remember about your dad, but this is the most I’ve heard about your mom,” Angel mentions. “There a reason for that?”

“There isn’t much to know about her. Personally, I think it should take more than giving birth to make you a mother, because she gave birth to me, but that’s all she ever did. She’s no mother,” Mia states.

“It was like that even before your dad died?”

“She was there? I don’t know, I mean, Bishop says she was involved, but I have no memories of it. Maybe I held onto what I remember of my dad because I knew I wouldn’t be able to make more memories. But after he died, she just spiraled. Started drinking a lot, when that stopped doing the trick she turned to pills, and then graduated to heroin by the time I was ten.”

“She never got with anyone else?” he questions, his fingers playing with hers.

“Oh, she got with plenty,” Mia assures him. “Whatever she had to do to get her fix, she did.”

“I meant, not another Mayan?” he corrects.

Mia makes a face. “The thing about my mom is, well, she’s a user. She liked being with someone in the club, the respect you got from the girls who weren’t, the looks on the street when someone knew you were an old lady. My parents don’t have this big romantic love story like yours,” she goes on. “My mom was going back and forth between my dad and Bishop before she got pregnant. She would fight with my dad then get with Bishop, when that went south she’d go back to my dad. When she got pregnant she actually didn’t know who the father was.”

“Oh.”

Mia smiles a little. “Bop used to joke that I was one of the luckiest girls in the world because most guys bail in that situation, but they fought over me. They both wanted me, and they both wanted her too. Eventually, they got a test and Valentino Flores was crowned lucky winner of the sperm race. They got married when she was six months pregnant.”

“Bish didn’t want her after?”

“He did, actually,” she answers. “But the heroin got in the way. It turns out that is my mom’s one true love, not my dad, not Bishop, and certainly not me. Bishop refused to make her his old lady until she got clean and was able to take care of me. And, with her and Bop’s history, not to mention my dad’s, no other Mayan would get with her out of respect. It kinda pissed her off because she liked being a kept woman, you know.”

“She’s still not clean now, I’m gathering,” Angel pieces together.

“Nah. She never is. The longest she’s made it is six months. Every couple years or so she comes around wanting to be with Bishop, wanting to get clean, wanting to be together ‘as a family’. He falls for it every time, but I know better. I hate it because he get his hopes up, wastes so much money putting her through rehab, getting her everything she wants when she says she’s clean, then a few weeks later she’s gone and takes everything she can with her. His cash, whatever valuables she could get her hands on. She even sold one of his guns once, one of the .45s that had the Mayan insignia on it and shit.”

“Damn,” Angel swears. “Pop and I were never close, but he was still there. I knew no matter what happened he’d bail me out of whatever jam I got myself into, that I’d always have somewhere to go, a warm meal to eat,” he goes on with a shake of his head. “I couldn’t imagine not being close with my ma. That sucks, I’m sorry.”

Mia shrugs and leans against his chest, her arms snuggled between them. “My mom needs to be the center of attention, something she stopped being when I was born. The only thing she loves as much as heroin, is herself. I was never more than dollar signs to her, the Mayans supported her because of me, and she knew it,” she exhales, content as his large, warm hands rub up and down her back. “I’ve never known different. It was Bishop who made sure I stayed in school, got me into dance classes when I wanted them, signed me up for kickboxing because he wanted me to be able to protect myself. He’s the reason I’m alive,” she admits. “Well, him and Esai.”

“Esai Alvarez Esai?” Angel asks, pulling away enough to look her in the eye.

Mia nods with a ghost of a smile on her face. “Yeah, we were raised together. I think they wanted us to be like brother and sister. I mean, we have pictures of us in the bath when we were little, but that’s not the way it went.”

“You and Esai Alvarez?” he questions, his expression dumbfounded.

“Do you know another one?” she wonders in a giggle.

“No, I just—he, I mean, he’s fucking married to the club. He’s gonna be king, you know,” he comments and pulls her back against his chest. “I’ve never seen him with the same girl for more than a couple hours.”

“That was one of our problems. I couldn’t,” she stops and sighs, “I get there are rules. What happens on a run stays on a run, he could get his dick sucked whenever I wasn’t around, that shit happens but I—I never got right with it. It’s why we were on and off for about seven years. He’d go on a run and he’d come home looking so fucking guilty and would deny it up and down, but I knew. He’d admit it, we’d break up, he’d fight to win me back, and eventually I would give in,” she goes on and shakes her head. “He was my first everything, I couldn’t let go, I wouldn’t at the time. I had only two people I truly let in my life that I knew would love me no matter what, and he was one of them.”

“Wait,” Angel says, his mind churning. “ _La que se escapo_ ,” he whispers to himself.

“Oh, fuck,” Mia groans.

“You’re the tattoo on his arm, the one that got away,” he continues. “Gilly asked once, he told him to fuck off.”

“Sounds about right,” she laughs. “He got the tattoo for my birthday. My birthday, his tattoo, fucked up, right? But he didn’t get ‘the one that got away’ until we broke up for the final time. I was pissed, but—he had to do something with it. I covered mine up.”

“You had one? Of him, I mean?”

“Kind of, I had the, uh, the old lady tattoo on my arm,” she answers as she shifts to reveal her skull tattoo to him, the one that got them talking in the first place. “I covered it with the tattoo for my dads. I’d always wanted something for them, and a guy I knew said he’d be able to cover it easily enough,” she says and pulls her jacket back up. “Fuck, that pissed him off. To Sai, that meant we were really over. He refused to cover his, did that instead,” she goes on. “Told me that I would be the only woman he would ever marry, so if it wasn’t me, it wouldn’t be anyone, and so there was no reason to get rid of the tat. I’m sure he’ll get someone knocked up one day and she’ll be his old lady, and she’ll be able to accept the shit I wasn’t able to.”

“Not the life for you, huh?” Angel asks with an eyebrow raised.

“It could be,” Mia insists. “I understand being in the club, loving it, putting it above most of the things in your life, but I need to be the one thing that it’s more important than. Not that I would ever make him choose, I respect the MC too much for that, but—I need to know that I’m number one. Sai couldn’t do that, no matter how hard he tried. I realized I was trying making him into someone he wasn’t, and I loved him too much to do that,” she explains. “He really tried the last two years. He’d opt out of runs, spend every spare moment he had with me, was completely transparent, but—he would get so angry sometimes. It made him feel like I was keeping him from the club, but I wasn’t, not intentionally, I just didn’t trust him. He had too curious of a dick.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t piece this together sooner. Of course, you knew E, why wouldn’t you? And that tattoo, it’s really you,” Angel mutters more to himself than her. “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“He got it when I turned eighteen and he asked me to be his old lady. I was so happy, I thought that things would be different, and they were for a little. Bishop was pissed off because I moved in with him, but I was eighteen, he couldn’t stop me. Of course, I was back and forth between break-ups,” she mentions as an afterthought.

“This relationship, it sounds great, by the way,” he teases.

Mia laughs a little. “When it was great, it really fucking was. When it wasn’t, we were toxic, and I didn’t see it until later. He never hit me or shit like that, Bishop would have killed him if he did, but I saw what he did as cheating, and he didn’t. It made me feel like I wasn’t enough even though he swore up and down it wasn’t about me,” she continues. “And, like you said, he’s gonna be king. There is nothing he would choose over the club, and even though I would never ask, I needed to know I meant more, but I never would. When I finally accepted that I ended it. There were a few hiccups, and it was one of the hardest things I ever did. He was my best friend, he knew every single piece of me, you know?”

Angel shakes his head. “No, I don’t. I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You’ve never had a serious girlfriend?” Mia asks, biting her lip when Angel’s hands roam across her ribs, his fingers brushing against her bra. “I don’t believe that.”

“I’ve had girlfriends, but never like you’re talking about. The most serious one was in high school, which sounds fucked up when you’re thirty-one,” he says, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “But I also haven’t been looking for anything serious.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her name was Adelita. I knew her from school, we were in the same year, but I guess you could say we met at church. Mom made us go every Sunday, rain or shine, sick or healthy,” he states, but then rethinks it. “Well, if we were, like, projectile vomiting or some shit we got out of it, but that meant she had to stay home too, and we knew how much church meant to her.”

“You were pickin’ up girls at church, Reyes?” Mia teases with a rock of her hips.

“ _Querida,_ I can pick up girls anywhere,” he answers with a knowing smile. “Anyways, she helped out a lot at church, and my mom would always guilt me and EZ into helping with whatever fundraiser or cause they were involved in every few months. We were working a booth together during the end of summer carnival and I was doing more flirting than working—”

“What? I do not believe that for a second. You have to be lying—ah!” Mia stops in a squeak when Angel tickles her sides.

“It’s my love language, _mi dulce,_ literally,” he jokes. “One minute we’re working the booth, the next my mom is there and inviting her to dinner. It just kind of escalated from there. She wasn’t my first girlfriend, but she was the first I think I actually loved.”

“You think?”

“Looking back, I think I was trying so hard to be someone I wasn’t for her. I tried to be into the things she was, I wanted to care as much as she did about everything she did, but—I think I just wanted my mom to be proud of me for something, to have something for her to gush about to her friends what was about me for once and not EZ,” he admits.

“I didn’t know your mom,” Mia states the obvious, “but I know she had things to be proud of you for. It’s easy to see how much you loved your mother, how you would do anything for her, you even shared a hobby with her. So, I know damn well she gushed about you, Angel Reyes, so you shush right now.”

Angel smiles and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “Thank you.”

“What happened? With Adelita?” she asks.

“Just didn’t work out. We really didn’t have all that much in common. I mean, I like helping people, I still donate to the church and to causes and shit, but spending every waking hour asking people for money, going door to door to give out pamphlets and shit? Man, I felt like I couldn’t fuck my girlfriend without getting money from someone else first,” he says, and Mia can’t help but laugh. “Besides, she went into the Peace Corps after high school and I knew that shit was not for me. We ended with no hard feelings.”

“And nothing since? No one serious?” Mia asks.

“After Mom died, I didn’t want serious. I just picked up girls to fuck ‘em. And ever since I’ve been in the club, I’ve been happy to sleep with whatever hang around was paying attention,” he answers honestly. “Besides, it takes a lot to be with someone in the club, you gotta deal with more than the average bullshit a guy puts you through.”

“Oh, I know,” she confirms.

“You also don’t know who actually wants you for you or because of the leather,” he adds on. “Like your mom, being an old lady is all some chicks want, it doesn’t matter who gets them the title.”

“So many girls hated me when I was with Esai, even after we broke up because they knew how much we still meant to each other. None of the girls understood, to them I had everything. If Esai was going to be king, I would have been queen, but being an old lady wasn’t my end goal. Being with Esai was. This one particular _puta_ , Bianca, fuck, every time she could she was tryin’ to get her nails in him. When we broke up, she thought it was like open season. I was in more than one fight with that bitch,” she says with a vengeful look in her eye.

“I would pay to see that shit,” Angel insists, and Mia pushes on his shoulder as he laughs. “What? I know you can fight, Bishop’s gone on about it, how many matches you won when you were in kickboxing.”

“Yeah, that’s why they guys were always quick to hold me back, they knew I could do some serious damage,” she mutters grimly. “All I wanted was five minutes alone with her, still do. She was all talk and I hate that.”

“You’re still close with E, then?”

Mia looks down, mostly out of shame. “I was. When Bop and I had our falling out I wanted away from all things having to do with the MC. I was so sick of him bailing out my mom and never taking my side with her. Esai tries to stay out of shit when it comes to my mom. He fucking hates her, but he respects Bop’s feelings about her, so he didn’t back me up. I cut him out too and haven’t had the lady balls to reach back out. This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since we broke up. I needed time away from him then to get over him, you know. That, and every time we hung out right after we ended up fucking.”

“I don’t know if I want to be in love like that,” Angel admits and starts to light another cigarette.

“Like me and E?”

“Maybe, I guess, more like my parents,” he answers before inhaling. “I saw what happens when it ends. My dad still isn’t the same, almost ten years later.”

“That’s where we differ—you don’t know if you want it, but I don’t know if I’m capable of it,” Mia confesses.

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Angel comments.

Mia’s eyebrows raise as she makes a face at him. “I loved Esai, but—I never trusted him so I never completely let myself go with him. I trust him with my life, but my heart? I barely trust myself with that shit,” she stops and shakes her head in shame. “The relationship I ended when I came out here…” she trails off and holds her face in her hands so he can't see her shame.

“Hey,” Angel pulls on her wrists softly, but they don’t budge. “Hey, talk to me, baby,” he pleads quietly. “You’re my best friend too, you never have to be afraid to tell me shit.”

“It was bad,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “It didn’t start that way, and—fuck,” she swears while trying to hold back tears, hating herself for getting so upset. “When Bishop and I had our falling out, he was brought into the fight.”

“Your ex?” he questions while finally removing her palms from her cheeks.

“Yeah, his name’s Jay—Jason, actually,” she corrects herself. “We had just started dating when my mom OD’ed, again, and we weren’t serious, but,” she stops and shakes her head, “I mentioned it when we got into it, how the guy I was dating was a normal law-abiding citizen and being there, trying to figure out what detox program to get my mom in, it shouldn’t have to be my normal, his either.”

“What did Bish say?”

“That it didn’t matter, she’s family and you do what you have to for family,” Mia recites from memory. “I said that she wasn’t my family, and she didn’t give a shit about him, and until she decided to get help herself nothing he did would matter,” she pauses to wipe at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to rid the pool of tears. “And he said he raised me better than to not care about my own mother and he was ashamed of me.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Angel coos when tears start to fall. “It’s alright, c’mere,” he murmurs while pulling her into a hug.

“He’d never said that before, that he was ashamed of me,” she manages to get out in between shaky breaths. “I’d been arrested, kept in holding cells, tried drugs I told him I never would, made so many bad decisions he found about after the fact, but he’d never said he was ashamed of me.”

“He wasn’t, he’s not,” he assures her. “You don’t hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around, the joy in his eyes, how excited her gets. He loves you more than anything, _mi dulce_ , please believe that.”

Mia nods against his chest, sniffling. “It hurt. What he said hurt, it hurt that it felt like he kept choosing her over me hurt, that he continued to believe her and not even listen to me, it really hurt. And I wanted to make him hurt too, so I said that I was done with it all—her, him, the MC, and that I would be better off with my cookie-cutter new boyfriend who would be able to give me a normal life.”

“It was a fight, everyone says shit during fights,” Angel responds in an attempt to console her.

“Yeah, but I made good on it. I stopped going to the clubhouse, I ignored Esai’s calls and texts, I didn’t check in with Bop the way I used to. I dug my heels in, and so did he,” she sniffs. “I fucked up. I made Jay out to be like Captain America and he wasn’t, I was just so angry, and so I tried everything to make it work to prove I was right. I gave in way too much, let him make me feel like I was crazy, isolate me, and control everything, and I mean everything,” she stops as her eyes well up again. “Fuck.”

Angel holds her tighter and presses kisses against her hair, shoulders, anywhere he has access to. “I’m right here, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

“If Bishop knew what happened between me and Jay,” Mia says while wiping her cheeks, “he would be ashamed of me, it wouldn’t just be words.”

“Why do you say that?” Angel asks after a silent moment, his voice firm, cautious.

Mia shakes her head. “Never mind, forget I said anything,” she says and makes a move to get up, but he holds her down.

“No, I ain’t forgetting shit,” he tells her. “Talk to me.”

“It doesn’t matter, okay?” Mia insists and pulls free from his hold. “I got out of it, that’s what’s important. I’m here and made things right with Bishop and, and,” she falters and looks him in the eye, “I met you. My best friend.”

“I know you want me to let this shit go, babe, but—”

“No, no buts,” she cuts him off. “I need you to trust me when I say I handled it.”

Angel takes in a deep breath and stands with her. “Alright.”

“That’s it?” Mia asks, surprised.

“We’re best friends, right? If you say you handled it, then I believe you. That’s what best friends do,” he answers. “Especially ones that sleep together.”

“See, this is why we’re perfect for each other,” she insists while wrapping arms around his middle. “We’re best friends, we trust each other, and you don’t want to fall in love while I don’t think I ever truly can. We get the fun without the responsibilities of the relationship.”

Angel smiles softly before kissing her. “Well, when you put it that way…” he trails off and kisses her again.

They are interrupted by Angel’s phone buzzing in his pocket. He tugs it out and answers it immediately after looking at the caller. The conversation is quick, one she’s heard too many times before, but understands all the same. He’s needed at the clubhouse.

“I gotta go,” he sighs, but makes no move to let her go. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Mia asks, her chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him.

“Thanks for listening,” he whispers before kissing her gently. “I haven’t—I don’t talk about my mom, it’s just something I avoid, but it felt good talking about her with you.”

“Any time,” Mia says and pushes her lips against his in a barely-there kiss. “Me and Bop talk about my dad all the time. It was hard at first, but it makes it easier, I think. It helps keep your memories too.”

He nods. “Noted. You coming to the clubhouse?” he asks as they start to make their way back through the house and to their vehicles.

She shakes her head while leaning against her car. “Nah. If you got called in that means you guys are gonna be in _t_ _emplo_ for a bit and I’m tired. I was running around with Letty all day, remember?”

Angel puts his helmet on as he nods. “That girl does tire you out. Her mouth alone never stops moving.”

“Shut up, she loves you guys,” Mia scolds him with a smack to his chest.

“I never said she ain’t family, she’s just a teenage girl. I stopped being interested in them once I hit twenty,” he replies.

“Coming from your current sex partner, that’s good to know,” she jokes in return.

“Ooh, sex partner, I love it when you talk dirty. Say it again,” Angel instructs.

“Sex partner,” Mia says in a sultry tone.

They start to move closer to kiss again, but his phone goes off. “Fuckin’ Boy Scout,” he swears and pulls his phone out and declines his brother’s phone all. “Such a fuckin’ pissant.”

“You love him. Go, they’ll start to wonder where you are,” she encourages. “Thank you, again, for my ceiling.”

Angel’s leg swings over his bike and with a kick the engine roars to life. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just made the call to get it done when you asked, remember?” he says with a wink.

Mia nods with a knowing smile and watches him pull away while berating herself for even bringing up Jay, let alone talking about what their relationship was like with Angel.

She makes a mental note. It will never happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?  
> Leave a comment or get at me on tumblr @anactualcaseofthetruth

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @anactualcaseofthetruth for moodboards and other fun stuff. Comment your thoughts! I live for them. thanks all.


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